Ignorance Is Bliss
by MercerSPN
Summary: John has to go on a hunt and leaves Sam and Dean with a woman he promises isn't a 'replacement for their mother'. But regrets it when he finds out she'd been hurting both of his sons to the point where their lives are at risk. Warning: Child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

_Title: _Ignorance is Bliss

_Author: _Mercer SPN

_Summary: _John has to go on a hunt and leaves Sam and Dean with a woman he promises isn't a 'replacement for their mother'. But regrets it when he finds out she'd been hurting both of his sons.

_Author's Note: _I was actually really anxious to start this story. It's been on my mind for a while now. I hope you all enjoy it. I promise it'll have a lot of action and angst and all that good stuff. I also needed this story because I've been having just a little brain block on my other story 'Mind's Eye', so check that that out if you haven't already. I'll update that soon, I promise.

_Time Set: _Pre-season, obviously. Dean's nine, Sam's five. This is a little AU simply for the storyline.

_Warning: _Child abuse.

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><p><strong>Ignorance is Bliss, Chapter 1<strong>

Dean knew there was a reason he didn't like her. He didn't like her from the start. Since the moment she came stumbling in like some ditz on wedges. The way she held onto their father, like she was afraid to let him go. The way her deep brown hair flew every which-way. The ways she smiled at everything - especially when John was around. Dean didn't like her.

The way she'd try to pick Sam up every five minutes. The way she played with his hair like he was some doll. The way she acted like she cared. _The way she tried to replace his mother _. Dean hated her. He hated the way she talked, the way she moved around the small two-bedroom apartment of hers. The way he and Sam had to live there with her while their father was on a hunt. He hated every little thing about her. Even her name, - Kristen, his father had told both of them. 'Call me Kris, sweetie,' he remembered her saying to Sam on the first night John brought her home. Dean despised her.

There was just something about her. Something that Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. Something about the look in her eye when she'd cook and Sam would say he wasn't hungry. Something about the way she'd watch him play with his toys. There was something off with her. And at the ripe age of nine years old, Dean knew that shouldn't stay with her.

But what could he do? John was set on them staying. Dean had never seen him like this before. He'd never really seen him about women before, so this was all new. But he wished everything could go back to the way it was before. Before she came into his father's life. She was ruining everything.

Dean was mad. Mad that his father had done this. Mad that he couldn't stop it. Never in a million years would he have thought that his father could bring another woman into their lives. John had told him, "I know no one can replace your mother. Believe me, I know. But… I think you guys need a woman in your lives. Both of you. Someone to take care of you when I'm not here. Someone to take you and Sammy to the park. Someone to cook you a nice dinner at night and drive you to school. And I think she can do that, okay? Just give her a chance, Dean. Please?"

She was crazy. She was weird. She was off. There was something about the tone of her voice when Sam asked a question. Something about the twitch of her eye when Dean told her he was going to go sit outside. Something about the way she'd clear her throat every time someone disagreed with her. Dean hated to admit it, but he was intimidated by her. Maybe because it's been so long that he's had a female in his life, or what. But there was something about her.

They had lived with her for three days with their father. And in those three days everything was alright. In fact, Dean had began to warm up to her. But then John had to leave. A hunt that he told her was a 'week long business trip'. Dean didn't want his dad to go. Sam had cried. But in the end, John left. Dean could see the worry in his eyes. Many of times before John as left them with others. In the care of Bobby. In the care of a friend he trusted dearly. Sometimes even my themselves. But this was different and they all knew it. This was pretty much a test.

The moment John left the apartment, the mood changed.

Dean knew there was a reason he didn't like her, and she proved him right all too well.

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

"I'm not hungryyyy," Sam's whined. He twirled the fork in the flavored noodles Kris had made and sat in front of him. She had an evil look in her eye. With a strong hand, she gripped the back of Sam's neck pushing it down toward the bowl.

"Eat. It," she says with a growl, making the words into their own sentences. "I made it, you eat it."

Sam pushed back, trying to slip out of the chair and out of her grip.

"Stop, please," he says, kicking his feet that were too short to touch the ground. "That hurts."

She didn't stop though. Sam dropped the fork, it slipped off the side of the table and fell to the ground.

The door swung open, Dean came walking in from getting the mail, just like she had told him to. Sure he hated her, sure he wanted her gone, but he was trying to play nice for his father's sake at least. But what he saw made him drop the papers of the ground and slam the door shut. He ran, he yelled.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shoved her as hard as he could. But she outweighed him. She was taller, and stronger. She only stumbled back a few steps, but it was enough to make her let go. Dean took hold of Sam's arm, pulling him off the chair and shielded him behind himself. Sam was crying.

Kris gawked at Dean.

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me!"

But Dean didn't stick around to hear the rest of her yelling. He took Sam by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom they shared in the apartment. He locked the door and pushed the chair in front of it. He ran to the closet and into the duffel bag his father had helped him pack. In the bottom of it was a cell phone John gave him 'just in case'.

Dean sat on the ground, just under the window and waved for Sam to come sit next to him. He was still crying, scared more than anything. He pulled Sam close, wrapped his arm around him as he pressed the phone to his ear.

It didn't surprise Dean when he only got his father's voice mail but it angered him.

_"Hey, this is John..."_

Dean dropped the phone hopelessly. He hit his head on the wall behind him, frustrated.

His dad needed to come back. He needed to come back _now_. He was sure things would only get worse.

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><p>So what do you think? Things are only getting started! Continue? Please review &amp; support everyone.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: _Thanks for all the reviews and support everyone, it's really appreciated. Please continue to do so.  
><em>Warning: <em>Child Abuse

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 2<strong>

In one instant, everything had changed. She had everything going the way she wanted it. But then it was like she blinked and it was all different. Now, she found herself banging on the door where the brothers had locked themselves into. With her perfectly manicured nails she tapped on the door, trying to sound softer and less angry. She tried to sound gentle as she said, "Guys, I'm sorry. Come out, please? Unlock the door?" But there was no answer. Nothing at all. No movement or anything. She was angry.

She banged on the door, letting go of the little hint of niceness she tried to display. Her eyes hardened and she planted her feet firmly on the hardwood floor. She cleared her throat.

"Dean!" she called, again she twisted the knob, even though she knew that it wasn't going to open. She could feel her heart beat pick up speed. She didn't like being ignored. She didn't like being treated like she was nothing. She didn't like being disrespected. She yanked on the door again, "Sam!"

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

Both brothers sat with their backs pressed hard to the wall under the window. The cell phone Dean had tried to use to call his father had been forgotten on the floor next to them, pushed away a couple feet. They both sat with their knees pulled up to their chest. Sam had his arms wrapped around them and his head resting in his kneecaps. Dean had his hand on Sam's back, trying to make him feel safe as much as he could. They both had their eyes glued on the bedroom door directly across from them. They watched as it shook the chair Dean had rammed under the doorknob. They both wondered what would happen if she happened to break it down.

Kris yelled both of their names. The range in her voice was going from a deep, angry growl to an overly happy, high pitched voice. She'd yell, curse at them for not opening the door; then a second later she'd call them sweetly asking them if they'd _please _come unlock the door. Sam gulped hard when he heard his name being called. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. For a little while, he thought he'd like Kris. He liked the idea of having a girl around all the time. Just like the women he'd seen on TV when he watched it with Dean. He had always wondered why he and Dean didn't have moms like everyone else. He wondered what they did wrong.

"Open this damn door, boys!"

Sam glanced over at Dean, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Dean could see the tears in his eyes. With the tips of his fingers, he patted Sam's back before residing the hand back into his own lap. Sam had unwrapped his arms from around his legs and let them stretch out in front of him. Again he looked at Dean. It was a 'what are we going to do' look. A look that told Dean he had to fix this somehow.

The door pounded again. This time it was louder and more powerful then the others. It shook the window behind them. And both of them could almost swear they felt the ground shake a little. Then her voice came piercing through the thin pine wood.

"_Boys?_"

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

She was ready to give up. She had had it. Never in her life had she ever felt so defeated in her life. Never. This was new, and she didn't like it. Kris gave the door one final smack before she strutted back into the kitchen with an attitude. With one hand pressed into her hip, she bent at the waist to pick up the fork Sam had dropped less than fifteen minutes ago. She took the bowl of noodles, tossed the contents in the garbage can, then literally threw the bowl into the sink. It bounced around with a loud crash before residing in the left side of it.

"I have never..." she rambled on to herself. "... this kind of disrespect... lesson to be learned..."

She sat down at the table, but a minute later she was on her feet again. She walked around the table - not once, but twice. Still, she could feel her blood boil. She sat down again, pressed her hands into both sides of her face and growled.

Scratching the side of her head almost nervously, she said, "They'll pay for that..."

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

Dean put his hand on the back of Sam's neck, rubbing the tender skin slowly. He noticed Sam flinch and try to resist the urge to move away. Dean put his hand down.

"Did that hurt?"

Sam nodded, keeping his eyes set on the floor ahead of them. Dean gently pushed Sam's head down, trying to get a better look. He could see where Sam's skin had began to bruise over in the shape of Kris' thumb, index, and middle finger. Dean sighed a little, disappointment in himself kicking in.

"Sammy, I'm sorry," he whispered. He remembered to keep his voice low. Of course she was still out there somewhere, but they didn't want to call any attention to themselves. Not anymore than needed to.

A little confused, Sam replied with, "For what?"

He shook his head. "I let you get hurt... I'm sorry."

Now Sam felt bad. He felt bad that Dean felt bad. Sam scratched the side of his head, then massaged the back of his neck. He smiled at Dean, trying to do all he could to show that he was alright. Sam said, "I'm okay, Dean, really."

There was silence. The birds outside could be heard chirping happily in the night, somewhere far away. And in that moment Sam envied the birds outside the window. They were free. They didn't have to deal with Kris. Sam wanted to fly. He just wanted to take Dean and fly away.

"I think she's gone," Dean had finally spoken up a few minutes later. He stood, glancing at the clock.

8:07 pm it read.

Dean snapped his fingers in a circular motion. "You should go to sleep, Sam."

The look in Sam's eyes were all but willing.

"What?"

Dean didn't answer, but his facial expression did. Sam stood, his eyes began whining before his mouth did.

"Deeean," he says, still keeping his voice calm.

Again, Dean snapped his fingers then pointed to the smaller bed, designated for Sam.

"Go," Dean says to him softly.

Sam climbed into his bed, rubbing the back of his neck in the process. He couldn't believe it. All of this just happened and now Dean's telling him to go to bed? Bed? Like it was just a normal night. Like nothing was wrong. Sam didn't get it. But he learned not to question it. Besides, he didn't know how it was possible, but he was tired. He yawned. Dean smirked just a little. To give Sam a little satisfaction, he sat in the middle of his bed, facing the door.

"What if she comes in?" Sam asked, the though beginning to scare the sleepiness away from him.

Dean shook his head. "She's not coming in."

Sam was showing his stubbornness.

"But what _if _," he begins, keeping his voice low still. "What if she comes in and tries to get us?"

For a moment Dean was quiet. Then he found the right answer. He turned toward Sam so that he was looking directly at him and said, "I'm not gonna let her hurt you, okay?"

Sam slumped back.

He didn't have anything else to say.

He didn't know how, and he was unsure of why, but Sam believed him.

-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-

She got in.

Sometime during the night Dean had fallen asleep. And also sometime during the night Kris had come into the room and had actually wrapped a blanket around him. She had also taken their shoes off and placed them in the floor between their beds.

She had entered the room quietly, not wanting to wake them up. The light was still on, so she turned it off. Then she tip-toed to both of them, and planted a soft kiss on their foreheads.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered to them as Kris exited the room and resided to her room for the night.

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><p>Next chapter, definitely more action. Please review &amp; support. Both are greatly wanted and appreciated.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone reading and to all of you who took them time to review my last two chapters. Thank you.  
><em>Warning: <em>Child Abuse

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 3<strong>

She was persuasive.

When Dean had woke up to find the bedroom door unlocked and open, then to see that Sam's bed was empty, he began to panic. He jumped up from the bed so fast, he was literally dizzy for a moment, but he brushed it off and exited the bedroom. It was surprising to see Sam sitting at the table, his head down and his hands out in front of him, resting on the table. His feet kicked slowly at the too far ground as he waited. Kris was on the other side of the small kitchen, her back turned to them. Dean pushed Sam's shoulder getting his attention.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked, confusion in his voice. He had no idea how she had gotten in without him noticing, and he sure as hell didn't know why Sam was at the table. Everything was beginning to mirror what had happened last night that made everything seem crazy. Dean could feel his heart racing a little. Something was wrong with Sam, and he could see it. The way he kept his head down. They way he tapped his small fingers on the table. The way he didn't look Dean in the eye.

He answered simply, "Kris said it's time to have breakfast."

Dean swallowed hard as he looked up at Kris again, her shoulders moving as she poured the bowl of cereal for Sam. What he didn't see was before he came into the kitchen she had removed a small pill bottle from her apron. She took out three, and crushed them with the spoon and left them there at the bottom of the bowl. She had poured the cereal over the crush white powder then poured the milk and watched as the substance mixed in with everything. She smiled to herself. As he took hold of the side of the bowl and sat it down in front of Sam. She touched the side of his face.

"There you go, baby," she says. Then she turns to Dean, the look in his eyes all but welcoming.

She sighed. "Look, Dean, I already apologized to Sam. I didn't mean it, I really didn't. I just... lost it for a second. I'm sorry. Really sorry."

Dean was quiet, so she kept going.

"I just... miss your father. I've never had to take care of two kids by myself before. It was a little overwhelming. I just wanted Sam to eat, then she said no, and I didn't know what to do."

"You hurt him," Dean's voice was cold.

Kris nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry. I just want you guys to like me. I just want to make you happy. I'm sorry, Dean. I really am."

She looked at him sincerely, and she could see he was going to give in. Both of these kids just wanted a mother, she could see that. And that was the way she was going to get it. The way she was going to invade to take control. That, was the easiest way to conquer . Dean had nodded. It was a small nod, almost unwilling, but he did it. Kris smiled at him, then turned to Sam.

"G'on and eat it, Sammy. Quickly, before your cereal gets all soggy."

Sam looked at Dean, almost for approval, like he wouldn't do it unless he said it was okay. Dean gave him a small shrug, not seeing anything wrong. So Sam took the spoon, dunked it into the bowl of cereal . She watched, almost enjoyably, as Sam took a spoonful of the cereal.. then another... and another. She giggled as she walked away toward the living room area.

As she walked, she could hear the rattle of her pills in her apron. It made her smile again.

As she looked over her shoulder at the brothers in the kitchen, she thumbed over the bottle. And as he watched Sam keep eating, she felt accomplished.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Hours later, Sam lay on the couch, his arms clutching his stomach. He called for his brother.

"Deeeannn," he whined, rolling over.

Almost instantly, Dean came out of the bedroom he and Sam shared and into the living room. He walked briskly, wanting to see why Sam was calling him. The first thing Dean noticed was the one of Sam's voice. He hurt it was filled with.

"What?" Dean asked, taking a seat next to his brother. He saw the way Sam was lying, like it hurt to even breathe. He looked pale- sick.

Sam tried to sit up, he could only lean against the arm of the chair.

"My tummy hurts," he cried.

Dean scratched the side of his face.

"You want some water?"

Sam nodded. "It just hurts."

Dean stood, walking toward the refrigerator. As soon as he opened it, Kris came out of her room.

"Hey Dean," she greeted. She noticed the concerned look on his face and she almost smiled again. But instead, she said, "What's wrong?"

Reaching in the refrigerator, Dean took out a bottle of water.

"Sam's stomach hurts. I'm getting him water."

Kris pouted a little. She put her arm around Dean and said, "C'mon. I'll help you."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

It only got worse by the hour. Sam pressed his head into the couch, staring up at the cartoons on the screen. Kris sat beside him. She looked down as asked, "Do you want some soup, Sam? It might make you feel better."

Sam nodded slowly.

"Okay," he answered. His voice was hard to hear.

Kris stood, smiling at him and Dean softly.

"I'll be right back," she says.

In the kitchen, Kris grabs a can of chicken noodle soup and a pot. She puts it on the stove, dumping the contents of it into the pot, watching it heat up. She peeked over her shoulder. Dean's back was to her and Sam's attention was on the cartoon. She saw that as her chance.

Behind the cookie jar is where she kept the pill bottle. Slowly, she took hold of it. She kept her hand as steady as she could, as not to make the pills rattle and cause attention. She held her hand out, gliding out two of the pills into her palm and then dropped them into the soup liquid. They sunk to the bottle, already beginning to dissolve. With the wooden spoon she was using to stir the chunks of chicken and vegetables, she crushed the pills. The whiteness of them broke apart and mixed with the contents in the pot.

When it was hot enough, Kris got a bowl from the drainer and poured the soup into the bowl. She took hold of a spoon and carried it back into the living room.

She set the bowl down on the coffee table and helped Sam sit up.

"Here ya go, sweetie. Eat as much of that as you can, okay?"

Sam nodded at her, grabbing the spoon and beginning to eat.

"How 'bout you, Dean?" Kris asks.

Dean shrugs.

"I don't want soup."

She smiles. "That's fine. How about pizza? I know a really good place down the street we can order from."

Dean smirked at her.

"That sounds good."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

He knew it was helpless, but Dean tried again. Dean sat in his and Sam's room. Sam was still in the living room with Kris, so Dean took advantage of his time alone. Dean picked up his phane again and dialed his father's number.

It rang once...

Twice...

Three times...

_"Hey, this is John. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you -"_

He knew it.

Dean knew it, but it didn't stop him. He waited for the beep so he could begin his message.

_Beep._

"Dad... you need to come back. I don't think I like Kris. And Sam's sick. Please just come back."

Dean thought about what he was doing, realizing that there was a slim chance that his father would even hear this. The man never picks up a phone. Dean continued anyway.

"_Please _, Dad."

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><p>So what'd you think? Kris is taking new risks, Sam's sick, and Dean still can't get in touch with John. Things can only get worse.<p>

Please, please review.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review, I love hearing your thoughts on how things are going. Please continue to do so.  
><em>Warning: <em>Child Abuse

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 4<strong>

She was proud of herself. She sat at the kitchen table, thinking about how the past few days have been going. It's been two days since Dean had found out Sam was getting sick. He was too young to completely know what to do, but she didn't have to commence him for having the right train of thought and for being on the right track. But what she was doing to him couldn't be reversed with just some Children's Tylenol and a glass of water; no, this was something way more. Day after day, meal after meal, she slipped a tablet or two into the toddler's food, then smiled silently to herself as she watched him eat it. Hours later, his pain got worse... it only made her smile.

"Good job," she mumbled to herself.

Kris looked over at Sam who had refused to move from the couch , he faced the back of it, his head buried in the pillow . She didn't feel sorry for him. Honestly, she didn't feel anything... except accomplishment, maybe. Or anxiousness- more or less. Accomplished: she had put into action what she had promised herself she would. She had a plan and the fact that they boys pissed her off just allowed her to put it into action earlier than she had planned. She missed John. She didn't understand how he could be gone this long. Didn't he know he had two boys and a beautiful woman waiting for him at home? Kris sighed. She wanted him back.

She had anger. She needed to release it. Sam and Dean seemed like the perfect way to do that. If she can't be happy, the can't either - that's the way she sees it. And Sam, just for being uncooperative, is her target for the time being. There was a rush in all of it. Kris liked the chain reaction: she hurts Sam, Sam tells Dean, Dean tries to take care of Sam, Dean realizes he can't, then suddenly they both need her help. She likes that feeling: being wanted. She thrived it, actually. So if she had to keep hurting Sam to make him keep needing her... then so be it.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Sam had a fever. It came about early in the morning and Sam had woken everybody up to let them know. He was hot. He felt his body was wrapped up in a bunch of hot towels. Sam groaned. He didn't like this feeling. He felt sick to his stomach. Sam didn't want to eat anymore, he kept telling Kris that whenever he did it only made him feel worse, but she felt different. She kept telling him that eventually he'll feel better. Sam saw no other choice but to believe her. He felt tried. He could couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a few hours. All this pain he felt was wiping his energy. He felt helpless; more than anything he just wanted Dean to make the pain go away, but he seemed like he didn't know how. He would hover over Sam with this look in his eyes that scared Sam. A look that said, "I'm sorry, Sammy, I don't know how to help you."

All he wanted was his father, but he was no where to be found.

Dean was scared. Something was wrong with Sam. Really wrong and it seemed like he was getting worse as the days went on. It's been exactly three days since Sam had first complained of a stomach ache but now it didn't stop there. Now he had a fever that was rising by the hour and complained of it every few minutes. You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach you get when something is just.. off? Dean felt that since Kris had first arrived, but even more now. He needed to do something, but he didn't know what. He needed to fix this, but he didn't know how.

But there was one thing they all knew: John needed to some back.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Kris pressed the wash cloth to Sam's head. The curls on his head bing pressed down to his forehead. Sweat mixed with the stray water that dripped from the cloth and made a small puddle in the couch around Sam's head. His eyes were closed, his breathing was quick and thin, he clutched his stomach. Slowly, his feet kicked at the blanket that covered him. He was hot - too hot. Sam's hands were clammy, his vision was cloudy, and his stomach was rumbling though he was no where near hungry.

She patted his shoulder in the most soothing way she knew how.

"Just relax," she whispered to him. "it'll be okay."

Sam groaned. He felt horrible. He felt...

As quickly as he could Sam got up. It hurt to move, it hurt to do anything. But he had to go. The bathroom was too far, so the garbage can would have to do. He fling the top off the garbage, the sudden sound seemed to echo off the walls. That sound of it was enough to get Dean's attention. He opened the bedroom door, looking in their direction skeptically.

Sam's body jerked forward and his stomach emptied. Dean ran to his side, placing his hand on his back. Dean looked down, but what he saw wasn't right.

He shook his head. "Sammy... is that _blood _?" he questioned.

Dripping from the younger Winchester's lips was a deep red, thick, liquid.

Looking in his eyes, Dean saw Sam was crying.

This was bad. Really bad.

Dean took Sam's arm and projected his voice to Kris.

"He needs to go to the hospital."

Almost instantly, she shook her head.

Dean squinted at her. "Did you not just see what happened? He threw up blood... he needs to go to the-"

Kris laughed. But nothing was funny. This was definitely not funny. But she laughed. It was a deep, satisfied laugh. The kind of laugh you hear the bad guys do in movies when they know they've won. Every instinct Dean had was screaming at him to take Sam and run... so that's just what he tried to do.

Grabbing Sam by the arm, he tugged him across the living room. Dean tried to rush past her, but she was too quick. Her arm came down hard, pushing them off their feet. They both fell backwards; the back of Dean's head hit the hardwood floor hard and for a moment he saw nothing but black. He snapped out of it as quick as he could, though his head was spinning. When he looked up he saw Kris making her way to the door. She locked both locks and put the chain on the door. He watched her push down the locks on the windows .

Dean's heart began to race. He looked to right to see his brother with his eyes barely open, still coughing up blood. Dean's eyesight faded for a moment again, but focused when he heard Kris clear her throat.

"No one's going anywhere," she laughed.

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><p><em>So does everyone officially hate Kris more than they did last chapter?<br>Please review, I wanna hear your thoughts! _


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review, I love hearing your thoughts on how things are going. Please continue to do so, thank you so much.

Also, yes, I will be updating 'Mind's Eye', I'm just doing a little replanning. I'm trying to work out the ending. So in the meantime, I'll be updating this story.

_Warning: _Child Abuse

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 5<strong>

Dean sat up as quick as he could; partly because he was afraid of what Kris might do, and partly because he was trying to get to Sam before she even had a change to. Dean got to his knees, even though the room as spinning. He closed his eyes for a second, he had to, and hoped that it would slow down. Still reaching, though, he pulled Sam into a sitting position.

"C'mon, Sam. Stand up," Dean urges as he tries to pull both himself and Sam to their feet.

On the other side of the room, Kris is closing the blinds on the Living Room windows and locking them. She puts the chain on the door, too. Dean gulps. What was she doing? Kris fixes her eyes on both of he boys again and smiles evilly. She walks toward both of them and at the same time Dean is struggling to hold up himself and his brother. He moves backward as quick as he weak, unsteady legs would go.

Kris shrugs.

"You've crossed the line," she begins. Her voice is deep and angry. "Both of you. And I won't stand for it any longer. You live in my house. You need to do what I say. You need to listen to me!" Her hand swept across the coffee table, the bowl on it went flying into the wall, cracking and falling to the ground, staining the carpet.

Both of the brothers jumps a little, startled not only by her behavior but the loud sound of the glass breaking. Dean pushed Sam behind him, rushing him into the bedroom.

"Go, Sammy," he says, his voice a little higher than normal. Sam moves a quick as he could, but it wasn't fast at all. His body, his mind, everything felt like it was in slow motion. Even Dean's voice sounded like it was being dragged out longer. His vision was blurry at the edges and he could feel and hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He'd never felt like this before. He was scared. Sam put his hand over his heart, trying, somehow, to make it go back to normal but nothing was helping. Sam had his back to both Dean and Kris, but he could hear crashing of glass and Dean yelling for him to hurry up.

Sam felt a hand on his back, rushing him quicker into the two bed bedroom he shared with his brother. As soon as Sam entered the carpeted room, he dropped to his knees; too weak to hold himself up anymore. Dean was too busy blocking the door with anything light enough for him to pick up or slide, but strong enough to keep Kris out. Outside they could hear her, she kicked the door and it instantly reminded Sam of a few nights ago when all this happened before.

As soon as the door was blocked to his liking Dean was by Sam's side again. Sam was on all fours, coughing hard. His face was red and so were his eyes as tears fell from them and onto the floor. His whole body shook as he coughed.. The pain he felt was clearly written on his face and it only made Dean feel even worse. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to make the pain go away. He didn't know how to get Sam to someone who could actually help them. Dean sat in front of Sam, a pained and helpless look on his face.

"Sam, you okay?" he asked, his eyebrows arching a little. Sam's mouth closed and he finally stopped coughing though the tears in his eyes remained. He shook his head 'yes' slowly.

Outside the bedroom, Kris was causing all types of noise. She yelled for a while, then it as quiet. Completely quiet. Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he forced himself to turn his attention back to Sam who had made himself sit up straight. Sam's hand was wrapped around his stomach and his breathing was slow and unsteady.

"Just hang in there, okay? I'm gonna call Dad again. He's gotta check his phone sometime," Dean says as he crawls to the duffel back again and rummages for the phone. His hand slid all around it, but he always came up empty. Dean shook his head, not wanting to believe it. He checked again. It had to be there. It just had to be. So he threw out all of the clothes and turned the bag upside-down and shook it.

Nothing. It was gone.

"She took it," Dean says more to himself than anyone. "She took the phone."

_-Ignorance Is Bliss-_

13 hours.

13 hole hours in that room.

Dean looked at Sam who had thankfully fallen asleep again on the floor next to them. His face and hair were both becoming dampened with sweat and Dean wondered if he was getting worse. He hoped that he wasn't, but the more the hours went by, the worse Sam looked. His mouth hung open slackly, like what you subconsciously do when you try to sleep with a stuffy nose.

They needed food.

They needed water.

But they also needed to stay away from Kris.

Dean sighed. He was scared. Honestly scared. The phone was gone. He was hungry. Sam was hungry. There was no one to help them.

Pushing himself to his feet, he bent down and wrapped his hands around Sam's midsection, lifting him. Surprisingly, Sam didn't wake, not even a little twitch. Dean put him on his bed, hoping that it was a little more comfortable for him.

Seeing no other option, Dean sat down on the bed, too. He let his head lie on the pillow.

"Dad, where are you?" he thought to himself as his eyes slid closed.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Sam sat up, weary and weak. Dean as right next to him, sleeping. As soon as Sam moved, Dean was awakened.

"... I'm thirsty," Sam said. The back of his throat was dry and made his voice sound a lot deeper. He coughed, but it only made it worse.

Dean nodded.

"I know," he looked down, almost ashamed of himself though he had nothing to do with it. "I am, too."

Sam looked over at the door, then back at Dean.

"When can we go out?"

Almost instantly Dean shrugged.

"I don't know."

The brothers exchange glances, both of their stomachs seemed to rumble at the same time.

They were hungry, they were thirsty, they were tired, Sam was sick.

They needed help.

Surely, they can't live like this.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

John sat down at the table, sweaty and breathless. Another restless day hunting. He looked over at the counter, his phone sitting there, the front of it lit with a notification. He lifted his head a little, curious.

Taking hold of the phone he saw the number.

Dean's number.

The phone read: 4 missed called, 2 voice mails.

John pressed the pound button and pressed the phone to his ear.

_"Dad... you need to come back. I don't think I like Kris. And Sam's sick... please come back."_

And there was another one:

_"Dad, why don't you check your phone? Listen, you really need to come back now. I'm sorry if it messes up your hunt but Sam needs you, **I **need you. Please."_

The phone went silent and John dropped the phone.

"Bobby!" he called. "We need to go!"

* * *

><p><em>So John's finally coming, but the boys are barely holding on.<br>Please review, I wanna hear your thoughts! _


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter. Please, keep reviewing; I love hearing your thoughts. I appreciate all of you, nonetheless.

_Warning: _Child Abuse

* * *

><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 6<strong>

Parental instincts pushed past his hunting ones for the time being. John was out the door with his jacket and keys in hand before anyone had the time to blink. Bobby, dumbfounded figured he had no choice but to hop in. John had a wild look in his eye as he pushed past Bobby, outside, and into the driver's seat of the Impala. Quickly, he jerked his head to the right, making sure Bobby was entering the car, too. Once they were both in, they were off, speeding down the road.

John gripped the steering wheel tight. Suddenly everything felt wrong. As the trees whipped by them, John only pressed down harder on the gad pedal. Bobby held on to the handle on the door, sneaking a peak at John every once in a while. He didn't like this.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong or you gonna wait for my mind-reading senses to kick in?" Bobby asked rhetorically.

John didn't smile.

He turned the steering wheel, swerving out the way of a small squirrel in the middle of the back road. They jerked from side to side. It took a moment or so for them to get back in the right lane and somewhat under control. John spoke, "Dean called…"

Bobby didn't see any harm in that. So what, he thought. But he didn't say it aloud. Obviously, John wouldn't have let himself get like this if he didn't think something was wrong. And for that reason, Bobby stayed quiet and waited for him to finish. A full minute of silence passed and John didn't even begin to speak. Curiosity and a little bit of worry hit Bobby, forcing him to speak up.

"And…?" he asked. "Dean called and what?"

Again, Johns' eyes never left the road, but the speed they were going at did increase little by little the further they drove. John cleared his throat and took his right hand off the wheel to rub it across his forehead in the way he does when he's trying to hide emotion. If there was anything Bobby as learned about John in all his years of knowing him is that he loves his son's more than anything. And only when it came to them did Bobby ever see him get emotional.

Letting his hand go back to the steering wheel, he began again.

"And … he said Sam's sick. I don't know how bad. I don't even know how long that voicemail has been sitting there, but -" his voice trailed off. He was trying to find words. The right words. "I just need to go back, to make sure everything's okay."

Bobby nodded. He understood. But something else was bothering John, he could see it. He was going to ask, but John started up again before he had the chance.

"I just have this bad feeling and it's really starting to freak me out. Like, this whole time we've been gone I've been feeling a little weird and I've been meaning to check in on the boys but we've been so damn busy and -," again he stopped. But it was only for a moment or two. "and then when I heard Dean's voice, when he said Sam was sick, the way he was asking me to come home… It just made me feel worse." He shrugged. "I don't know."

Reasoning. Bobby was always good at reasoning, so that's what he did.

"I'm sure Sam's fine, John. A little cold isn't anything. Dean knows that to do…"

John shook his head.

"But that's just it," he said. "The sound of his voice. He was crying, I could tell. He's stressed out. He's scared or something…" John shook his head. "What' if it's just not a little cold, Bobby? What if it's something serious?"

Bobby shrugged. "Well Kris is there, isn't she? She'll know what to do then if Dean's unsure-"

John cut him off.

"That's it, too. He said something about not liking her or something… I dunno. I just don' t know, Bobby. I just need to go back and check this out for myself. I mean, I told Dean not to call unless it was absolutely his only option. They both know how busy I am and can't always get to my phone in time. So the fact he's calling… he's been calling.. I just don't know how I feel."

"How many times has he called you?" Bobby asked.

John shrugged. "Five times, maybe? I didn't sit there and listen to all the messages. That one I heard was enough." He looked over at Bobby and he could see the worry in John's eyes. "This is bad, Bobby. I feel it."

Bobby cursed.

Yeah, he thought, this isn't going to end well.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Dean needed to go. He needed to just, _push_ himself up and go. But he was tired. Drained; both emotionally and physically. How is he supposed to look out for Sam when he can't even look out for himself right now? He was running on empty - literally. Sixteen hours they had been in that room already and Sam was looking worse by the hour- or maybe even the minute. He had rolled himself toward the wall so his back was now facing Dean, but he took notice of the way Sam was breathing just by the way his midsection was rising and falling. Dean was scared. Not only for Sam, but for himself, too. He was dizzy... the room had this weird tilt to it and a strange tinge, too. He was tired, tired beyond belief and his eyes kept falling shut.

Maybe it was from being so hungry and so tired, but everything looked weird. Dean couldn't explain it, but it was almost like he was looking at the world through someone else's eyes. Certain things kept popping out at him. Most of the time the room swayed, and made him feel like he was going to fall if he moved too quick. The way Dean was feeling only made him feel worse when he thought about Sam. He was so exhausted to the point where he couldn't stay awake anymore. That scared the hell out of Dean, more than he could comprehend in his fogged mind right now. But he knew that he had to get both himself and Sam out of here. His job was to look out for Sam, and damn it, he was going to do just that.

Reaching out, Dean pressed his hand to Sam's back. The back of his shirt was damp from sweat that also made a home in Sam's hair and began to make a thin sheen over Sam's forehead. Dean shook him a little, trying to get him to roll over.

"Sammy," he called and his eyes expanded a little. His voice was hoarse, deeper than it should be for his age. He almost didn't recognize it. It hurt to even talk, they both had been quiet for so long.

He shook Sam again and watched as he fell onto his back, his eyes still closed for a moment before they opened up a slit and looked over at him. He coughed. It was a deep cough that shook his whole body. It sounded rough. It sounded like it hurt. Even Dean squinted a little at the sound.

"We're gonna get out of here, okay?I don't care what she's gonna do to us. We can't stay here anymore. We need food-"

"Wah'tr," Sam choked out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. The back of his throat felt like sound paper.

Dean nodded. "Water, too."

Making himself stand, Dean let his feet press into the ground. With all the strength in his arms, he lifted himself up. Again, the room swayed. For a moment he thought that he was going to lose his balance and fall back onto the bed, but he quickly steadied himself. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Sam seemingly imitating what he was doing. Sam, too, was trying to stand. He rolled off the bed, planting his feet. Sam held on to the side of the bed, then the end of Dean's shirt for stability before he finally ensured himself. Slowly, he let go of Dean and the side of the bed.

Letting his arm fall around Sam's shoulders, he kept both of them stable.

"C'mon," Dean says as he removes the chair from under the door knob, sets it aside and turns the door knob. "Let's go."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

They weren't far now. Maybe another hour or two, and John had calmed down a little, but on the inside he was still just as freaked out. The ride here had been relatively quiet, there was nothing to say. Bobby looked over at John again. He he didn't like seeing him like this and he hoped that all of this was for no reason, an over reaction. Ever since they were born, and more and more over the years, Bobby loved both Sam and Dean like his own sons. He babysat for them when John had a hunt. And in that time he had gotten to become closer to them and realize that he kind of loved being ' Uncle Bobby '. Those kids has heart and drive, and at such a young age, Bobby was amazed at them. Dean never ceased to amaze him. The way he takes care of Sam and does it so well.. it was truly astounding. Dean's only nine years old. Most of all the other kids can't even take care of themselves by that age, cry when they lose their favorite toy, still think girls are icky, and thinking about school. But not Dean. He had grown up so quick at such a young age that he didn't even have time for those little things to cross his mind.

"You okay?" Bobby asked, just to make sure.

John rubbed his palm across his face. He nodded slightly.

"Yeah... I'm fine."

That's the number one lie all the Winchester's tell. They say they're fine, that nothing's wrong, but when they say that, that's usually when they're hurting the most. Bobby looked out at his window, unsure of how to help his friend.

The only thing he could do was hope that both Sam and Dean were okay.

They'd be there soon enough...

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Somehow, Sam ended up being the one to exit the room first; Dean followed close behind. They peeked around the corner, trying to spot her but she was no where in sight. The brothers moved at a slow pace, trying to get to the refrigerator. They entered the kitchen, the coolness of the tile floor shocking their feet a little. That didn't stop them, though. Dean reached the refrigerator first, he tugged at the handle, but it didn't open. His head tilted to the side in confusion. He pulled again. He looked up higher, finding the pad-lock tying the two handles together, keeping it from becoming ajar. They couldn't get in it.

Sam looked up at his brother, his eyes beginning to tear.

"Dean?" he says, half-whining.

Dean took his arm and headed out the kitchen. "C'mon. It'll be okay," he says to him.

They trot through the living room and to the front door. Dean pulls on the knob, twisting and turning it. It was almost to no one surprise when it didn't open. They exchanged looks. From behind them, they heard a door creek open and heave footsteps come toward them.

"Well would'ya look at this," she began. "Look who finally came out."

They were quiet. She looked up at the locked front door. "Going somewhere?"

She moved toward them.

They took a step back.

"Sam... he's sick. He needs to go to the hospital," Dean says calmly. He's trying to sound genuine. He looked over at Sam who hand his small hand wrapped around the sleeve of Dean's shirt. He was trying to keep himself upright, but it was getting harder and harder by the minute.

Kris looked at them. She pouted.

"Awe," she says unsympathetically. "Does widdle Sammy havea boo-boo?"

She mocks them, using that annoying baby voice. She reaches out. "Here, let me see him..."

Dean pushes Sam back behind himself. He catches Kris' arm but is too weak and too small to do anything with it. She grabs him by the shoulders, yelling in his ear.

"You bastard!" she screams. She shakes Dean, lifting him off his feet and out in front of her. His head rocked back and forth. Instantly, he was dizzy. For a moment, he could've sworn he blacked out. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard Sam yelling. That only seemed to make her more mad. She dropped Dean so suddenly that he almost didn't feel himself falling. But he did feel his head connect with the coffee table with a hard, body shocking roughness. He fell to the ground, cupping the side of his head. Blood ran through his fingers.

Just then, he realized that he wasn't hearing anything. Nothing at all. When he looked to his right, he saw Sam banging on the front door, yelling. But he couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything.

With anger driving her, she gripped Sam by his sides and tossed him on the couch. He looked stunned for a moment. Clearly, he used whatever energy he had left banging on the door for someone to hear. Kris marched into the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers angrily. She found what she was looking for she charged back into the living room.

"Maybe _this _will keep your fucking mouth shut," she growls as she unravels a length of Duct tape. She tears it with her teeth and takes a strong grip on the back of Sam's hair. She tugged at his curls, keeping him in place. Kris pressed the tape to his mouth. Then she took another piece and pressed it there, too. But before she even had the chance to take a step back, Sam was pulling at it, trying to get it off his face. She sighed anger boiling even more as she headed into her bedroom, stomping like a child.

She was back within seconds with two ruler-length ropes. They weren't thick, but they were strong. She grabbed Sam's wrists and twisted the rope around his wrists, keeping him unable from taking the tape off.

"You little bastards. You... sons of bitches," she mumbled to herself. Reaching down, she gripped Sam by his forearm, her hand holding him so hard, he could feel the bruise already forming. She drug him odd the couch and then went to get Dean. She lifted him off the ground. As his head hung forward, blood dripped off his head and on to the carpet. She pulled them out of the living room and down the hall. She stopped in the hallway, opened the closet door, and threw them in it.

The room, compared to other hallway closets was pretty big. Nothing but a few coats hung in there. Kris watched as the brothers fell to the ground. Dean, still attentive to his head. Sam, dazed, looking up at her almost unseeingly. The feeling she got when she looked at them was nothing but accomplishment.

"I told you I was going to make you pay," she whispered to them.

Then she closed the door and turned the lock.

* * *

><p>Alright, longer than usual, right?<br>So John's on his way and Kris has now hurt both of the boys.  
>Hopefully John can get there before it's too late.<p>

Please review everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: _Again, thank you to everyone who took the time to review and tell me your thoughts. That's really appreciated and I hope you continue to do so. Please & thank you.

_Warning: _Child Abuse

* * *

><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 7<strong>

The more they drove, the worse the feeling in the pit of John's stomach got. He could just feel that something was wrong, but he was afraid that if he spoke his fear completely to Bobby, then it'll come true. He never liked leaving his boys - even when it was with people that he knew. Even Bobby. He always had that urgency in him to try to get back as soon as possible, but this was worse, this was different.

Bobby looked over at him for a moment.

"John calm down," was all he said.

The Winchester's eyebrows scrunched together. He shrugged then made kind of a huffing sound. "Me? I'm calm. I'm - I'm fine."

Bobby could see right through him, though. Pretty much anyone could right now. The way he tapped his other foot, the way he kept glancing at Bobby, the way he kept increasing in speed. He was scared. He was nervous. And his nervousness was making Bobby nervous. The whole car was full of tension right now and neither of them quite knew why.

"I'm sure they're fine…"Bobby ties again. But this time it was more to himself than to John. He tried not to let John's fear get to him, but damn it was hard. Those boys had become more and more like family to Bobby as the days went by; and it would kill him to know that something was wrong with them. But he did all he could to keep the negative thoughts away and all the positive ones in.

_Sam's alright…Dean's alright… there's nothing to worry about , _Bobby kept telling himself. But soon enough they those thoughts became more of a prayer and he began to hope that his words were correct.

John shook his head and rubbed his eye.

"I just got a bad feeling about all this, Bobby," he says honestly.

And Bobby nodded, wishing he felt differently, but he, too felt the same.

He sighed.

"So do I, John."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Dean woke up slowly with the biggest headache he'd ever had in his life.

Something was wrong.

They were in a room, a dark room and for minute he couldn't even remember how he got there. He was lying flat on his back, aching all over. He groaned. The side of his head was burning hot like there was fire right next to him. With his right hand, he tired to touch it but he couldn't move. Dean's eyebrow scrunched and he could feel himself beginning to panic.

Why couldn't he move?

_Okay, calm down _, Dean said to himself, just as he imagined his father would. Dean took in a deep breath, but it hurt. Why did it hurt?

Dean took a second and calmed himself as much as he could, then he tried again. He used his strength to lift his right hand. He felt slight accomplishment when it raised off the cold tile floor. With just his index finger, he dabbed at the gash on the side of his head. With just a graze of his finger, his whole body jerked forward. He could feel his stomach muscles tightening, lifting him off the ground a little. He felt his eyes water and a tear slide from under his eyelids.

He could feel his body tightening, stiffening, and it made him scared. His eyes were suddenly heavy, like someone was pushing his eyelids down, trying to close them. And Dean was going all he could to keep them open. He didn't even get a chance to check on Sam yet. He didn't get a chance to do anything.

He was beginning to see black dots that clouded his vision. This was bad and he knew it.

All he had hope for was that his Dad would come back soon.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Neither John or Bobby could express their relief when they pulled into the driveway of Kris' house. John jumped out the car and jogged to the door. He noticed all the lights seemed to be off, or the blinds were close tightly. Either way, that was weird. He dug into his front pocket to grab the key she had given him. He pushed it into the door and turned it.

"Kris, I-"

He stopped short with the chain on the door kept it from opening all the way. His face scrunched. He banged on the door.

"Kris!"

Almost immediately, he heard footsteps approaching the door.

"John?"

A light flickered on.

Behind John were Bobby's footsteps approaching. He put his hand on John's back peering over his shoulder. John hit the door again.

"Kris, open up!"

There were sounds of fumbling, the door slammed shut. He was about ready to kick it in when he heard the chain being unhooked from the door. Once he was sure it was down he pushed in. Kris was standing right there with her hands out. She instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.

"You're back, thank God."

Something caught his eye. Red markings on the light-colored carpet. He pushed her away, bending at the knees to get a closer look.

"Kris, what is that?" he questioned. He looked around, looking for any signs of Sam and Dean. He could feel his heart picking up speed. "Is that _blood_?"

She froze.

"No... yeah, I-"

"Where's my sons?" John commanded more than asked. He began to follow the trail out of the living-room and down the hall. He stopped in front on the closet and looked back at her with a look that said 'I could rip your heart out.'

He swung the door open and he literally felt his heart drop. There, on the ground, he saw both his boys. Dean had caught his attention first, but they might've just been the blood dripping from his head, forming a little puddle by it. He was flat on his back, one hand across his stomach, the tips of his fingers had blood on them. His eyes were closed tight and he could see the pain written clearly on his face. John dropped to the ground, grabbing him by his midsection and shaking him.

"Dean?"

No response. No movement. Nothing.

The only thing that was keeping him from completely losing it was that he could see Dean taking in quick, thin breaths. He was still holding on. He was still fighting.

John brought himself to his feet, eyes locking on Kris like a predator to it's prey.

"_You_ did this," he spat his words out at her.

She held her hands up, backing into the wall.

"John, no. Please-"

His hands curled around her throat and she made a choking sound.

Moments later Bobby came in his direction. What he saw wasn't easy to comprehend. John, cornering Kris to the wall, choking her and then Sam and Dean, bloody on the ground.

"What's th- oh my god," Bobby says, he squeezes past John to get to Sam on the ground right next to him. Sam was on the ground, unconscious, with thick Duct tape over his mouth. His wrists were tied in front of them, turning his hands red. Bobby glanced over at Dean, noticing the blood. Both his and John's hearts were racing. As gentle as he could Bobby removed the tape. It seemed to stick to Sam's lips and Bobby could feel his face straining and his fingers pulling so that he could take it off smoothly.

Bobby didn't notice when, but John had at some point let Kris go and had returned to his boys on the ground. John pressed his index and middle finger to the side of Dean's neck. He found his pulse almost instantly. It was fast - too fast. Looking up, John gripped one of the cotton shirts that were hanging above them in the closet folded it sloppily and let it fall into his lap.

"Dean?" he talked softly as he let his hand slip under Dean's head, giving support as he lifted him up off the ground. "can you hear me, son?"

Gracefully, John let the cloth press up against Dean's head.

Almost instantly, Dean's face scrunched a little. His lips parted and he gave the softest of groans. But it was just what John wanted to hear.

"Dean?"

Once the tape was off Sam's mouth, Bobby took notice of the deep redness on and surrounding his mouth. Immediately Bobby turned him on his side, patting his back.

"John we gotta go. Hospital, c'mon."

Just then, John's attention flickered from Dean who was in his arms to Sam who was still positioned on the ground.

"Oh my god," was all he could say. John stood up quickly, making sure to keep the rolled up cloth pressed to Dean's head in attempt to stop the bleeding. He waved Bobby out.

"Come here, take him, take him," he says urgently, trying to give Dean to Bobby. "Put him in the Impala and start it. I'll be out in three minutes. "

Bobby didn't hesitate. He took the oldest of the Winchester brothers into his arms. John couldn't make out just what he was saying, but he began mumbling to Dean as he rushed out the door and outside.

Behind him, John heard Kris speak up.

"John, I-"

John stepped to her. "I will kill you..." he growled. But he didn't let her get the best of him just yet. He let their eyes break their stare and went to Sam.

The first thing John did was look for a pulse.

His hands were shaking so much that at first he felt nothing. But after one big calming breath, he got his hand to stay still for just a moment to feel his son's weak, feather-like heart beat. It was slow, thin... irregular. There was blood that slid from the side of his mouth and onto the ground.

What the hell happened to his boys?

With teary eyes and a ridged body, John lifted Sam into his arms.

"Daddy's here, it'll be okay, it'll be okay," John whispered to him as he exited the house. Bobby had pulled out of the driveway and into the street. He was leaning over the front seat to where he had placed Dean, trying to comfort him as much as he could.

John immediately went to the backseat where Dean was. He lifted his head and placed it on his lap, the cloth still attempting to sop up the blood that dripped from his head. With one arm, he held on to Sam tight and with the other hand, he had it resting on the back of Dean's head, carding through his hair in a soothing motion.

The Impala jerked forward with a screeching sound as it flew down the street. And in that moment John promised himself something: No matter what happens tonight, he was going to come back for Kris- and he was going to kill her.

* * *

><p>Please review everyone!<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: _Thank you to everyone reading, but a bigger thank you to all the people who reviewed last chapter or any of the previous chapters. Doing that is really appreciated. It's the least you can do, so I'm always grateful for you doing so.

_Warning: _Child abuse

* * *

><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 8<strong>

The landmarks they zoomed past in the Impala were one big blur to Bobby and completely nonexistent to John. Bobby, hands so tight around the steering wheel that his knuckles turned whitish, couldn't keep his eyes from glancing into the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of the family of three in the back seat. John, trying to balance his attention between his two boys, while at the same time attempting to keep himself under enough control. He did he best to ensure that he didn't have an emotional breakdown right there on the spot. Looking back, Bobby could see the complete fear in John's eyes. He could tell how much energy it was taking for him to hold back the tears that were just urging to come out. And the look on John's face was something he'd honestly had never seen before. He'd seen him more in control of his emotions in the face of other people's worst nightmares. He had a face of stone in the eyes of the quickest Shape-shifter, the most evil Wendigo, and the most angered demon. But this was different. John was literally living his worst nightmare.

There was a change in tension and franticness between the front seat and the back. Bobby had peace and serenity compared to the mini circus John was running back there. In his arms he could feel Sam shaking. But it was too warm outside for that to be the reason. He could also feel the heat radiating off Sam. His head bobbed weakly on John's shoulder; his forehead leaving a dampness of sweat. On his lap was Dean's head. The blood dripping from the open gash was quickly staining the cloth John had pressed to the side of it. If it weren't for all the blood and the obvious head wound, Dean would've almost looked peaceful.

Sam's breath tickled John's neck; as it was so thin that it seemed to imitate a small bug crawling on him. In his ear, he could hear Sam struggling to inhale. He felt it each time Sam does: his whole body tightens a little and the air comes in like he's breathing through a straw. And it amazed John that through all this struggle, Sam's face still remained emotionless.

_Just keep breathing, Sammy, please_ , John said to himself as he pulled Sam closer. He tried to keep both Sam and his brother as still as possible. John's hand had readjusted onto the center of Dean's chest. He could feel the rise and fall of it and was pleased when we could begin to feel some type of pattern in his breathing. Dean's face was strained, unlike Sam's, which lead John to believe that Dean was feeling every ounce of pain right now. John's heart ached. He didn't know which he preferred: Sam, unconscious, feeling nothing, oblivious to his pain; or Dean, semi-conscious, in a world of pain, felling every minute of it.

The Impala zoomed in and out of lanes, this is the most cars they've run into in the whole time driving to Kris' house - go figure. Of course in an emergency, they'd run into traffic. Bobby smacked the steering wheel and waved his hand.

"Out the way, you jackass!" he beeped the horn, slamming on the brakes just as the light suddenly turned red. The whole car jerked. John pressed Sam into him and gripped the front of Dean's shirt in his attempt to keep them from moving with the inertia of the car. Dean groaned at the sudden weight being pressed onto his head wound. John kicked the back of Bobby's seat, less out of anger, but more of an instant reaction due to the stress he was under.

"Damn it, Bobby! Careful!" John scolded. He turned toward Sam whose head has jerked backward toward Bobby then fell back hard onto John's stiff, tense shoulder. Dean slid toward the edge of the seat, hissing in pain. Almost immediately John found himself apologizing, even though he had no control or fault in this situation.

He petted the side of Dean's head while he made small, smooth, soothing circles in the center of Sam's back. John closed his eyes, becoming more and more overwhelmed by the second.

From behind the wheel, Bobby turned toward John and the boys while the light was still red; stopping them for the time being.

"I'm sorry," John mumbled. He rested his head on top of Sam's for a moment. His cheek getting lost in the curls. Bobby felt his eyebrows raise a little in concern for all of them. For a second, his eyes caught John's and he gave him a look that said, 'Hang in there. We'll be there soon.'

The older hunter turned back around, his heart beating rapidly in his ears, drowning out all other sounds in the world. He didn't hear the car behind him urging him to go and he didn't hear the scream of the tired against the street as they skidded off way over the speed limit. To keep himself calm, Bobby tapped the side of the wheel in a rhythm so quick that it almost kept up with the pace of his heart. Bobby couldn't say it out loud - not here, not now; but he was almost as terrified as John. They way both of the boys were so still, the paleness of them, the blood-loss, the way they found Sam: with his hands tied and tape over his mouth... These boys have been through Hell; and the more the thought about it, the more he felt his emotions go out of control.

The Impala hit another bump and Dean groaned. It was quiet, and if John hadn't been listening out for the slightest sound out of them, he wouldn't've heard it. John sat forward a little, but still managed to keep Sam in the same position in his arms. He shook his oldest son's shoulder firmly.

"Dean?"

Again, he groaned. His eyebrows scrunched together as he exhaled. John saw him pull his hand into a weak fist. The corners of John's mouth pulled upward as his lips parted for a small smile of relief. John watched as Dean's eyes moved under his eyelids slowly.

Johns spoke softly, "Dean, open your eyes. C'mon, son."

His eyelids felt heavy, like there was an one hundred pound weight keeping them closed - or perhaps Super Glue. Somewhere in the distance, Dean could've sworn he heard his father calling him. He could swear that he was in a car. But he just couldn't open his eyes to prove it. The only thing that seemed real to Dean right now was the pain shooting through his head and down his body. Everything that was happening only made his head feel worse. There was a hand on the center of his chest, then his shoulder, shaking him. He wished it'd stop, though. Even with his eyes closed, shaking him was only making him dizzy and his head ache more.

The boy's eyes fluttered open just slightly and the light felt like fire. He wanted to shield his eyes with something, but he didn't have the strength to move anything else. He blinked rapidly a few times, his vision finally coming into focus. The white could they seemed to hover over his line of vision slowly disintegrated and formed into the world around him. He could tell he was lying on his back, just like the last time he remembered being awake, but this time it was different. This time around he was looking up at the roof of a car - his dad's car.

"Dean..."

His eyes slid toward the sound of his name being called. Finally, his eyes landed on his fathers for a moment and he saw something he never saw before: his father was crying. That only made Dean more nervous. Something was wrong - really wrong. Was it Sam? Was something wrong with Sam? Why was his dad crying? Was it.. himself? Was something wrong with _himself_? Dean couldn't think straight. Suddenly he couldn't remember anything. Why was he head hurting? Why was his father upset? How come he couldn't move? Why is he in so much pain?

Dean tried to talk, tried to ask if Sam was okay, but he couldn't find his voice. All he could do was look up at John. His eyes began to close again, though they didn't have too far to go seeing as they were only half-way open to begin with. Before they could shut, there was another shake and it somehow forced him to peel his eyes back open a little more.

"Stay with me, Dean. Keep your eyes open."

But almost moments after John said that, Dean's eyes fell shut again and his body relaxed.

John felt his body and his heart jump at the same time. He shook his son again, this time with a little more urgency. From the front seat, Bobby could only hear what was happening behind him and for a moment he was a little relieved that Dean had woke up, but that didn't seem to last too long. It could've only been a minute before John was yelling, "Dean, wake up!"

Bobby pressed on the gas pedal harder but it was still about seven minutes till the hospital. Seven minutes with John juggling both his sons. Seven minutes of the boys probably getting worse. Seven more minutes of time able to be spent on worrying about what Kris did to them.

Seven minutes too long.

In his arms, out of the blue, Sam started coughing. His whole body shook at this sudden happenings. Sam's fingers gripped the collar of John's shirt. In between coughs Sam would gasp for air in such a way it made John's heart skip a beat each time he'd do it. He could hear the strain and desperation each time Sam took a breath. And through all of this John felt helpless. What could he do?

Removing his arm from around Dean, John took hold of Sam with both his hands. He patted his back softly as he rocked in an easy motion, shushing him. He cared through the back of his son's hair as he spoke to him softly, praying that he could actually hear him. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay," John whispers. "Just calm down. Daddy's here, Sammy - shh, it's okay."

For a moment, Sam was quiet. Tears slid from under his closed eyes and down his cheeks as he continued the struggle of breathing in and out. In his left ear, John could hear the wheezing Sam was doing. John pulled him closer.

"Keep breathin', Sammy. You hear me? Stay strong, son. You can do it..." He stroked Sam's back, hoping that it was helping in the least to release whatever tightening sensation he had around his chest area.

He felt Sam's body go ridged again as he slipped into another coughing attack, but this time in brought on new dangers. Deep red, thin blood spilled over Sam's bottom lip and down his chin as he coughed. It first it caught John by surprise and his face scrunched with confusion. But he quickly snapped out of it and reacted the best he could. John took the sleeve of his shirt and pressed it to Sam's mouth.

John looked out the window. They weren't too far from the hospital now.

"Bobby, speed up."

John looked at Sam, blood sliding down his face and onto his shirt as he continued to cough violently; then down at Dean who had slipped back into unconsciousness, his head still bleeding. John was beginning to feel overwhelmed but he couldn't let that get the best of him right now.

They flew down the street and into the parking lot of the big, brown hospital. Bobby didn't even park, he just stopped in the emergency lane, and threw open his door. Reaching out, he flung open John's too and held his hands out prepared to take whichever son he was handed. John didn't give one up, though. He managed to get out of the backseat with Sam wrapped in one arm, occupying the left side of his body and Dean wrapped in the other arm, occupying the right side of his body. Bobby didn't question him or anything. Once they were out, he just closed the car doors for them and followed John into the emergency room.

The automatic doors slid open and in came a frantic father with both his sons in his arms. He jogged into the lobby, opened his mouth and yelled, "Help! I need help!"

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><p>Reviewing would be awesome and I'd really, really appreciate it if you'd do so.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: _Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing everyone. Please continue to do so, it's really appreciated and wanted. You guys are awesome.

-**Attention all of you reading/concerned about my other story 'Mind's Eye'. No, I haven't abandoned it. Yes, it's on hiatus for now. I just don't feel like I have anything to give to that story right now. Even if I tried to write a chapter for it, it wouldn't feel good enough. So until then, please enjoy this story and when my brain block goes away for 'Mind's Eye', I will update it, I promise. **

_Warning: _Child abuse (for earlier chapters)

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 9<strong>

The doctors and nurses came charging at them like a stampede, already on high alert, like they were just waiting for them to come in. John stood there, in the middle of the entrance with both Sam and Dean in his arms as he stared down the men and women in white jackets and gloves as they came toward them with caution. A woman, a doctor, with deep dark hair turned around to the team behind her and yelled, "We need two beds. Now!" and seconds later, two nurses came with two rolling beds.

John shifted uneasily as he looked down at both his sons. They way they just _laid _there, not moving for the most part, dangerously still. Glancing over his shoulder briefly, John made sure Bobby was close by before he turned his attention back to them. He rubbed Sam's back, "You're going okay," John says to him, then turns his head to Dean. "Everything's gonna be okay. We're gonna get you help, okay? You're gonna be-"

A man, in a lime green scrub reached for Sam while two women - one in a baby blue colored scrub and the other in a raspberry pink - took Dean from him right in the middle of his sentence. They were both placed on separate beds. John watched as they removed the makeshift cloth from Dean head, tossing it aside. The one in the baby blue scrub turned his head to the side to get a better look at it. There was a lot of talking, the doctors and nurses communicating to each other in what seemed like an alien language to John at the moment. Again, he looked back at Bobby. This time it was more out of seeing for comfort. He had this feeling in his stomach that he just couldn't shake. He didn't even catch when they threw a question at him.

"... their names, sir?" the male nurse yelled at him as if it was his second or third time asking him.

John mentally shook himself, finding his voice. "Uh..." he couldn't think. There was too much going on; so Bobby stepped in. He pointed, "That's Dean...and that's Sam."

John's voice was thin and winded like he'd just run a marathon. He could hear his heard blasting in his ears and it pretty much drowned out any other noise that was around him. He looked around for a moment. To his right was the waiting room and he could see the other people staring in their direction with awe written all over their face. One woman had her hand over her mouth, her eyes big, as he held on to the forearm of the man she was sitting with. The look they seemed to have didn't help the feeling in his stomach. It just proved further that Sam and Dean looked horrible right now.

"Dean, can you hear us..?" The one nurse pressed her finger to the side of his neck. "Got a pulse."

They began to roll him away.

"Sam...? Oh God. We need to go _now _; he's not breathing!"

John's head whipped around so quick, it was a miracle that it didn't snap. The nurse was already in the midst of cutting a sloppy line up his shirt. She called out something that went right over John's head. Before he even had a chance to react they were rushing him down he hallway. They kept calling his name, telling him to hold on. John felt dizzy.

Groups of four and five surrounded both of his sons. John ran after them, trying to stay as close as possible. All at the same time, they were shining flashlights into their eyes, keeping time of pulses, checking blood pressure and everything else. The man held Sam's wrist firmly as he tapped the side of his leg as if he was keeping time of music.

"We need two rooms!"

"Call Harris! Clear two rooms!"

They turned a corner sharply and if it wasn't such a dyer emergency, John would of chucked at the over-dramatic nature of all of this.

"Clear OR, we're coming in. Notify Jackie, go!"

They stopped in front in the elevator. They slammed the button three times before it finally arrived and both Sam and Dean were rode into it. John tried to go in, tried to stay with them, but the male pressed his hand to his chest.

"Sir, you need to stay here."

John tried to push past him, not taking 'no' for answer. He needed to stay with them.

"No, I need to do-"

The male nurse held his shoulders. "Sir, you cannot go upstairs with them. You cannot be with them for surgery."

"They're my sons! What the hell do you mean I can't go?"

The male nurse's voice dropped to a lower level, a reasoning level, a tone that said 'we need to stop arguing to I can go help save your kid's lives.' "Sir," he says again. "We don't allow people in surgery. I'm sorry. You cannot go upstairs.. yet."

John stopped. He felt defeated.

Moments later, Bobby came jogging up behind him. He put his arm around John, letting him know that he was there.

"We'll do all we can. I promise."

He patted John's shoulder sympathetically and escorted him into the waiting room.

"C'mon," he says. "There's some papers you need to fill out."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Dean's heart was racing, his mind was groggy, his vision was blurry.

Something was... wrong?

When he looked up, he saw the chins and concerned faces of people. His eyes wandered, sticking to the ceiling for a minute as he tried to calm himself down. The people around him were talking... he could hear them this time.

"... is OR clear?... okay, we're coming in."

He felt the bed he was laying in turn and go through thick, white double doors.

"...about nine or ten, male... semi-conscious...blow to the head... stitches...what, no?... CT scan..."

Him? They were talking about him? Dean groaned. All of this was too confusing.

Another voice chimed in.

"Another one, about five... unconscious... unresponsive... respiratory arrest..."

Dean squinted. Sam?

Suddenly, everything was dark and he felt his pulse quicken a little. What was happening?

Then a light came on, bring and stinging to his unprepared eyes. A man's face came into his line of vision. He was smiling, a warm smile.

"Dean?" he called. The man's voice sounded far away. "Dean, can you hear me?"

The boy nodded, but he felt restricted. Like his whole body had been mummified.

Without warning a clear mask was over his mouth and nose. Automatically, Dean tried to push it off.

"Don't fight it, son. It's alright," says the doctor again. "Now listen to me... I need you co count backwards from ten, okay? Can you do that, Dean? Count."

It was weird, he didn't understood why he was so obedient, but he began counting.

_10..._

The nurses came in, sliding snug fitting gloves over their hands.

_9..._

Dean thought about his family - his brother, and if he was okay. His father, and if he was still holding it together. Bobby, and if he was keeping his father in line. Dean thought about Kris and how much he hated her for what she did to them

_8..._

His eyes got heavier, weights pushing down his eyelids. He felt a tingling sensation throughout his body, numbing him. He was losing feeling, losing consciousness.

_7..._

"Just relax," he doctor said, everything's gonna be okay.

_6..._

Black dots flooded into black clouds that filled his vision. Everything was going dark. He was losing feeling.

_5..._

_4..._

Dean couldn't count anymore... he couldn't...he was-

_3..._

-too tired, too hard...

_2..._

Sleep. He needed sleep.

_1..._

Darkness welcomed him.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

"This is my fault," John mumbled. "All of it. It's my fault."

He and Bobby sat in the waiting room, not having any other choice. John sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, and his hands folded between his legs. His head was down as he had an intense staring contest with the white tile ground. Bobby, one seat over was slopped back, his head on the wall, just be low the big painting. The older hunter rubbed John's back.

"You didn't know," he says, trying to help as much as he could. "It's not your fault."

John sat up, his eyes meeting Bobby's.

"It is, though. I should've never left them with her. I shouldn't have left them at all."

"John-"

"What if they're not okay, Bobby?"

"They will be."

"_But that if they're not?"_

Bobby didn't have an answer.

Just then, the doctor came around the corner. He rubbed his hand over his face was a calming and approached John.

"Are they okay?" John asked eagerly as he jumped up from his seat.

The doctor swallowed hard.

"I need to talk to you," he glance at Bobby, then reiterated. "I need to talk to you... _privately_."

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><p>Alright, there ya' go. Please, please take the time to review. Even if it's something little. I really appreciate the feedback. It always helps.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: _Sorry for the bit of a wait. I know I'm usually faster with the updates, but here it is! I'd appreciate it if you all keep giving me feedback. Even the smallest of responses I take to heart. So please, let me know what you think!

_Warning: _Child Abuse (for earlier chapters)

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 10<strong>

John glanced at Bobby, who looked at the doctor, who had never taken his gaze off John. John tried to swallow the lump in his throat that had been stuck in the middle of his esophagus since he had gotten the call from Dean. Not to his surprise, when he swallowed it only seemed to double in size. He could only nod softly; but inside his mind was on overdrive like usual. Inventively, he studied the doctor's body language as he tried to predict the news before it was given. John took notice of how the doctor kept more eye contact with the floor than John or Bobby. He caught sight of how the doctor's fingers were tapping in the front pockets of his crisp, white jacket. None of these things made John feel any better.

The doctor spun on his heel and began to walk in the direction he expected John to follow. Before departing, John took a look at Bobby once more. Both of the men wore pitiful masks in attempt to shield their worry. Their concern was written boldly on their faces. 'It'll be fine, you'll see,' said Bobby's eye as he gestured with his head for John to take after the doctor. John nodded a thank you and was on his way.

Winding the corner, Dr. Harrison snuck a peek over his shoulder to make sure the father of two was keeping up. About a foot or so behind, he spotted him. Within no time, however, they were both at the same pace again. In his ears, everything seemed amplified: his breathing, his heart rate, his blood flow, the worry voices in his head - everything.

"What can you tell me?" John tried to ask. At first, he almost didn't recognize his voice; it was paper thin and got swallowed up in the chaos and murmurings of the people around them. He could swear this whole situation was turning him into a completely different person. John cleared his throat. His sweaty palm and shaky fingers wrapped around his neck to massage the muscles in his neck. "Are they okay?" he says for his second attempt at speaking.

The doctor only glances at him, he doesn't answer. Instead, he reached out for the shiny silver handle on the door marked A23. Easily, the door swung open as Dr. Harrison flattened himself against the oak door to let John inside first. Once both inside, the door is closed, a light switch is flicked upward and it's suddenly just John and the doctor. There's already a clipboard that held a small about of lined papers on them. Stretching behind John, Dr. Harrison grabs it and gives it a quick once-over.

"Thank you for being so patient," were Dr. Harrison's first words. His voice was soft, smooth, trance-like. For some reason or another it seemed to calm John even if it was just for this moment. "So we have Samuel…_Sam _, and Dean. Who would you like to hear first."

In the back of his mind, John felt like the doctor was taking this whole thing as a joke. He was too… nonchalant. He hasn't answered John's questions yet, either. There was something about his whole demeanor that John was unhappy about. But he was also the one with the answers, the papers, the medical history, and the results of Sam and Dean's condition, so he gave in.

"I just want to know if they're okay," John's voice is soft, cracking a little toward the end of his sentence. He's so used to not showing much emotion, that when he does it's hard to control it.

Dr. Harrison's lip curled slightly. "Stable? … yes. But pretty far from okay."

This was the first time he answered John's question directly. But what he said didn't change anything yet. John's heart was still beating twice it's normal rate, his legs still felt barely strong enough to hold him up, his hands were still sweaty and shaking. He waited for the doctor to continue.

"Dean… he was conscious for a pretty good period of time. Maybe five to seven minutes. He looked around for a while. But other than that, you said his consciousness was pretty touch and go, right?" he looked up at John, noticing his distressed nature, then added, "we saw that." Again, he flipped through his papers. John felt like he was being tortured. "Head injuries are never pretty. Especially for children. See, their body is still growing, their bones are no where near as strong as, say, you and I… when we ran him in for a CT scan of his head we found he had two fractures right about here."

With his free hand he ran his fingers just above his ear and then about three inches higher. John breathed in deeply, held it in his lungs for a moment or two before releasing the air again slowly.

"Fractures?" was all he could bring himself to say at the moment, but Dr. Harrison continued without much recognition of John's statement.

"We also found blood collecting just behind his ear drum. It doesn't look like too much at the moment but we'll have to keep a very close eye on that. If not too bad, it should eventually fix itself."

John shrugged. "But if it builds up?"

"Blood will begin draining from his ear, rupturing his ear drum, putting his hearing as a whole in jeopardy and at risk," he answers bluntly.

Shaking his head almost absently, John says, "Well what can we do?"

"He was given twenty-three stitches for the gash on his head and we've stopped the bleeding. His head is wrapped and his wound is covered, too. He was given anesthesia and is still out; he doesn't feel anything… but he'll need plenty of fluids and even more rest and even closer caution."

"When will he wake up?"

"The anesthesia should wear off in about three of four hours, but it's all completely up to him."

John nodded. "What about Sammy? Is Sam okay?"

Dr. Harrison sighed. A deep sigh. John could feel his heart speeding up again.

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, shit _, the thought to himself as he doctor flipped up a few papers to get to where Sam's results and observations were.

"When Sam came here he was in respiratory arrest, he wasn't breathing, so of course that was our first priority above anything. We got him back quickly, he's okay from that aspect but that truly gave us a scare and we'll definitely be having him looked after with the closest and keenest of eyes. We have a nurse on call to check in on him hourly.

From what you filled out and what we saw, he was bleeding from his mouth, you've written that he was having coughing attacks, he's got bruising externally and internally … he's in pretty bad shape right now."

John saw black dots in his vision, his head felt like it was going to spin and fly right off. He blinked hard, trying to wipe them away like windshield wipers. He cleared his throat and continued to listen. He opened his mouth again, "Yeah, the bleeding...what's wrong with him?"

"Vomiting blood and bleeding from the mouth can be of many causes. The most common is infection of the esophagus, and upper digestive tract. Some of the more serious reasons are bleeding ulcers , inflammation , cancers , or ruptured blood vessels-"

"_Cancer?_" John stammered.

Dr. Harrison, responded, "It could be a number of things..."

"_Cancer?_" the father repeated. His hand came up and covered his mouth, he looked away. Dr. Harrison held his hand out.

"Hey, nothing's for sure yet. Please, don't worry yourself more than you have to. What you need to be sure of is that right now Sam's in a pretty bad position, and this is what I needed to talk to you about."

"What?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "After we got Sam breathing steadily enough for us to move on we gave him a stomach pump. Something inside of him is causing him to react that way - in this case, the bleeding."

John's eyes shifted suspiciously. "... okay," he says, not sure what the doctor is getting at.

"To be outright, we found a large amount of Tramadol in Sam's stomach and in his digestive system."

John's felt his eyes bulge slightly. "Tramadol? What is that? I don't know what that is." he felt himself tripping over his own words.

"It's a extremely strong pain medication given my prescription. It needs to be taken in certain doses and, with it's strength, probably under supervision. Certainly, a five year old should never even be in walking range of it. Would you mind telling me how we found the amount inside of Sam?"

John was silent for a minute, then it hit him what the doctor was getting at.

"You think I did this? You think I would hurt him?" John's voice was wrapped in venom, he stepped toward the doctor.

Dr. Harrison raised his arms. "You do guardian your children, don't you? They live with you?"

John nodded. "Yes, but..." he didn't want to say it. He wanted to handle Kris on his own, but he sure as hell didn't need more trouble. "I was out of town when all of this happened. I told you guys I didn't know exactly how this whole mess happened, and that's why. I can home as soon as I got my son's phone call. I wasn't in town," he repeated.

There was silence, so John spoke again. "So what does this mean? Tramadol. What does it mean?"

Harrison cleared his throat, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. "He was given a dangerous amount of it. Even one tablet could have put his life at danger. But from what we found, he was given at least... ten. Maybe more."

John's heart dropped.

"It's probably the cause of him vomiting the blood and his internal injuries. We think that it's was acting almost like acid in his stomach, eating away at the protective layer of this intestines, stomach, and throat. With that gone, it could very much so result in bleeding."

Again, John found himself shaking his head, trying to find what to say, "So what do we do? Can he be helped?"

"He's going to need surgery, that's for sure. Either tomorrow or the day after, no later than that. What's after that is unknown right now. With Sam, we need to take things slow. One step at a time."

John nodded. "I understand."

"Just a few more things," Harrison says, "Just like Dean, Sam is sedated for the time being. We didn't want him to go through any more pain that needed at the moment. Sure, the anesthesia will wear off, but that won't be until sometime tomorrow. But again, the actual time they wake up is up to them. "

"Okay," John says, just trying to process this whole thing.

"Would you like one room or two?"

That was the easiest thing John was asked in a while. They all needed to be together right now.

"One."

Harrison smirked a little. "I thought you'd say that."


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: _Thanks you for the people who took the time to review last chapter. I really appreciate it. Please continue to read & review. Thank you for the support.

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><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 11<strong>

Silence.

Silence was probably John's worst enemy. The stillness gave his mind a chance to run free, travel to the darker parts of it and allow them to take over. And the darker parts of John's mind were places best kept hidden. There, he kept all his worries, all his emotion, all the things he seemed to think of now and again but didn't dare to speak of. The most negative thoughts in his mind seemed to take over when he was in nothing but silence. Therefore he learned to embrace the noise because it was louder than his thoughts.

The room was pretty bright, one son on either side of him, his back was to the door. In the middle of their two beds was where he was seated. Sam on his right, Dean on his left. Both were dressed alike - in the usual hospital attire: plain, bright white shirts and light blue pants. The beds they were lying on were better than any of the motel beds they've had over the years and it killed John to know that it had to come to his - them being hospitalized, to finally being able to have a comfortable bed. The sheets the cocooned their bodies were also white with a blue folded blanket at the foot of the bed. Each had two pillows supporting their heads and neck, with the bed at a slight incline.

In between them was a nightstand with thin magazines that John wasn't interested in. In the oak wood nightstand were two drawers that John's hadn't been curious enough to open and rummage through. To the left of Sam and the right of Dean were the machines that were hooked up to their body. John had been there for some of it and he got to see how the nurses and doctors pressed the suction-cup looking things onto their chest and suddenly the heart monitor was on. For a moment or two John was mesmerized at the rhythm of their heart beat. He liked the sound.

Dean had one thin tube in each nostril to help his breathing. The tube tucked around his ears like glasses, then formed together about his chest area, then connected to yet another machine at his side. Sam, on the other hand, had one tube that went in his mouth, and down his throat John could only assume. Dean's was more of a 'safety-net' the doctor had called it, whereas Sam's was necessary . He _needed _to have the breathing tube. And that's what scared John.

Pale.

They were both pale. Like all their color, all their blood, all the _life_ had been sucked right out of them. With their eyes closed, hands placed on their stomachs, and breathing nice and easy it made the room seem very eerie. Every once in a while he'd find that he couldn't resist the urge to reach out and grab their hand, even if it was just for a second, fearing that it'd gone cold and lifeless.

He'd stare at them almost as if he was trying to will them with his mind to wake up, to start complaining, to start crying, to do something - anything. But them there: quiet, calm, still… that's not the Sam and Dean he knew.

John missed them. He missed his children. And in that time he sat their in silence, he realized how much of their lives he had already missed. But he would take everything back if he could just see Sam smile again, or watch Dean as he chases Sam around whatever room they're staying in for the time being. More than anything he just wanted to see give him that nod as he drives away, going on another hunt. The nod that said, "I'll watch out for Sam. Don't worry. We'll be fine." But this time they weren't fine, were they?

Ashamed.

Ashamed and angry is the only ways John could think of describing how he was feeling right now. How could he have let his happen? How could he even think that he could trust Kris? Sure, she was nice. Sure, he was beautiful. Sure, she seemed promising. But what's one of the very first rules you learn in Hunting 101?

Never. Trust. Anyone.

John had broken that rule. He was stupid and he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to forgive himself for it. As he sat there, looking at both his sons, he just knew that what he'd done - trusting Kris, was something that didn't deserve to be forgiven. This was his fault.

Broken.

Everything was broken. Dean - his head. Sure, the doctor had said that if everything goes the way it's supposed to, it'll fix itself. But who's to say that everything will go the way it's supposed to? John fixed his attention on his oldest for a moment. His eyes closed gently, his face smooth and plain. He looked at ease, at rest. That's what was different from other times he'd saw Dean sleep. He was at rest this time. The true definition of rest. Usually, Dean was close to sleeping with one eye open. He's be taught to always stay alert, to never put his guard down, and he'd slept just like that. Any little noise and he was awake, ready to fight or protect his brother from whatever was happening. Most of the time John was proud; after all he had taught well, but he was beginning when he'd stopped treating his kids like children and more like soldiers in a battlefield. It was sad that it took all of this for Dean to finally get a good rest, wasn't it?

His eyes drifted to Sam. Little Sammy. In that moment he looked younger than five years old and John began to wonder where the time had gone. When did he get so big so fast? Even closed, John could see in the pain in Sam's eyes, written all on his face. The way his eyebrows scrunched inward and up just slightly. The way the little creases around his eyes were tighter together. The way his lips were tight and would've been pressed into a flat line hadn't been for the tube pushing oxygen into him. He was uncomfortable, that was apparent. John let his hand grasp Sam's from off his stomach. He just held it there, letting his hand (which suddenly seemed a thousand times bigger than Sam's) shelter his. John's thumb slid back and forth over the topside of Sam's hand. He was careful not to push the red wire that snaked around Sam's wrist and into what looked like a splint for his index finger. But it kept track of his pulse.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Sammy."

John's voice shattered the silence like broken glass. It almost felt like a sin to talk. They'd been in nothing but quiet for so long that even hearing his voice seemed odd. But hearing his voice, hearing their breathing machines and heart monitors beeping consistently, feeling their hands under his, all of that let John know it was real. That this really happened. That Sam really was in 'critical condition' as the doctor called it and Dean was really in 'serious condition'. All of it sort of blended together for John, even thought he made sure he had a pretty good knowledge of medial terms. He knew that to do in serious emergencies, but when something like this happens. Something like this to not one, but both of his sons, all of that goes out the window for a while. He's not John Winchester : expert hunter, heartless soldier. Suddenly, he was just… dad. A father worried for his children's life.

All of this felt foreign to him.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

The clock has just struck ten o'clock pm on the nose when Bobby found the Winchester's room. He'd slowed his pace just a little as he caught sight of John's back, hunched over to his right with his hand over Sam's. Bobby squinted at the sight and he felt something twinge in his heart as he tapped the door twice and walked in. John's head whipped around, like he was expecting an intruder in a public place like this. But then again, no one was ever really safe, were they?

Bobby sighed as he took a look at both the boys. He came up behind John and laid his hands on John's shoulders. He let his fingertips press into John's shoulders, trying to help him relax. He patted John's arm.

"How are they?"

John's head dropped. His hand slid off of Sam's and came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"They've got _machines _breathing for them, Bobby," John breathed out heavily as he spoke. "Not good."

Bobby nodded, not seeing much else he could do. He'd been out taking care of all the paperwork John had been to busy to take care of. They paid with Bobby's fake credit card and John's fake health insurance. He knew that John had a lot on his mind - to much, so Bobby felt it was only right that he take it upon himself to do the dirty work. He'd sat with the secretary for about an hour trying to get everything straight while John sat with his sons.

"What did the doctors say?" the elder man asked. Bobby walked up to Dean's bedside. Gently, he let his hand fall on Dean's shoulder. He noticed the white wrapping around his head and where it stuck out a little for the padding.

John cleared his throat. He started with Dean first.

"Dean's got twenty-three stitches in his head. The doctor says he's got two fractures in his skull," John stopped for a minute. "They said... they found blood collecting behind his ear, near his eardrum." John made a twirling motion with his right hand by his ear. His voice was slow and dry. "He said that if everything goes the way it's supposed to, it'll pretty much fix itself-"

"But if it doesn't?"Bobby asks, he always tried to look at all the possibilities.

John shrugged. "They said they'll try to catch it before something goes wrong. But, if it doesn't heal the way it's supposed to, the blood can build up too much pressure and beginning draining from his ear. The blood could be strong enough to rupture his hear drum. Basically...," John looked for the right words, but he figured that being blunt is the only way. "He could lose his hearing."

Nodding, Bobby asked, "But his head is okay, right. Nothing's _wrong _?"

John knew what he was getting at. He shrugged. "I think he said something about a little swelling around the stitches. But I don't think anything's damaged." John's mind roamed a little at the possible thought of Dean having some kind of brain damage. His hand come up and covered his eyes. "God, I hope nothing's damaged," he mumbled to himself.

Bobby snapped his fingers. "What about Sam? Tell me about Sam."

"They don't really know what's causing all the blood, but he's in bad shape, Bobby. He's got to have surgery either tomorrow or the day after. They said he can't wait any longer."

"Any longer?"

Bobby had departed from Dean's side and was now leaning against Sam's bed. He stroked the front of his hair. It killed him to see him this way.

"They said when they gave Sammy his stomach pump, they found Tramadol in him."

"Tramadol?"Bobby's voice was full of concern. Clearly, he knew what that was, but then again, what didn't Bobby know? "Where did he..._Kris_."

John nodded. "I'm gonna kill her."

"Not if I kill her first," Bobby snarls.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Bobby has gone to the closest motel, which was only up the street.

John has stayed , of course and was in a pretty deep sleep considering the circumstances and the fact that he wasn't in a bed. It took a couple of hours, but he'd finally found that if the laid his head on the edge of Dean's bed, using his arm as a pillow, it wasn't so bad.

4:28 am, was the time.

In the back of his mind, John heard beeping. At first it seemed like nothing, just a fragment in his dream. But quicker and quicker it got louder and louder; more real. Suddenly, he shot up, his head whipping toward Sam's bed.

The machine next to him was screaming, a red light above it was flashing.

What was happening? What's wrong?

John jogged to the door, yelling for help before he went back to Sam.

Everything was racing. It was all too much for just waking up a minute ago.

John yanked on the line that was connected to the light above. Suddenly the room was lit.

Sam looked the same except he was shaking. Hard.

John pressed his hands to Sam's shoulders in attempt to keep him still.

"Shh, it's okay. Sammy, calm down. The doctor's are coming. Hold on," the father coached. He found himself shooting glances at the door wondering what the hell could be keeping the nurses and doctors when something important like this was happening.

But just like that, they came rushing in.

Before he knew it, John was pushed out of the way, and back toward Dean's bed.

The machine still yelled, but John noticed the lime green in a wave-like motion was beginning to become straighter and straighter.

"...we're losing him!" a piercing voice cut through Johns' haze, snapping him back.

'We're losing him'. Him as in Sam. Sam. His Sammy.

"We need paddles! Quick!"

John could feel his heart slapping against his chest, almost so loud that he couldn't hear anything else.

There was chaos.

Things that John couldn't explain, even if he wasn't to.

There was yelling, orders being called, but John kept his eyes on Sam's heart monitor

"Quickly, quickly!"

"We're _losing _him," came the nurse's voice again,

John felt weak.

The blankets that were covering Sam were thrown off the bed and his shirt was being cut open.

And just as soon as the scissors reached the top of his shirt and broke it open, the machine made a screeching sound, it was no longer just a simple yell.

By the time John looked up at Sam's heart monitor again, the line was flat.

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><p>Soooo...thoughts? Comments? Anything? SOMETHING?<p>

Please review, I'd really appreciate it :)


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note_: I'm sure you all want to kill me, and for that I'm sorry. It's been a little while. But I've been busy. Really busy. Sorry guys. But I took and hour or so and wrote this for you. Hopefully you enjoy what's left of the story. Reviews and support is always wanted and cherished. Thank you. I appreciate you.

* * *

><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 12<strong>

Worry had overpowered every other emotion John had at the moment. He stood there in the middle of the room, his eyes stretched wide open, his mouth agape, and his hands balled into fists. He doctors had did all but yank the wires out of Sam before pushing him toward the door, yelling and calling out things to each other. John jogged after them, but then he remembered Dean. He stopped. Dean couldn't be left alone, but John didn't want to leave Sam either. But what if Dean woke up? He'd want to have someone there with him.

"Damn it," John cursed as he headed back to the room Dean was in.

Bobby. John needed to call Bobby. He needed to be here. John- even though he hated to sound this weak- needed Bobby right now. Someone older, wiser, with a slightly clear conscious that can keep him even a little sane. John felt like he was losing his mind. He'd already lost Mary, he couldn't lose Sam, too. He just couldn't.

John tapped his pockets, searching for his cell phone. He felt it in his back pocket, opened it, and dialed for Bobby. The phone rang twice before the older man's groggy voice mumbled a 'hello'.

"Bobby, I need you to come back to the hospital," John announced, and in that moment he realized how much he sounded like he was on the verge of tears or something. John cleared his throat, closed his eyes for a second and just tried to slow everything down for just a second. Bobby, on the other end, didn't even ask what was wrong. He didn't need to. All he knew was that something had happened with one of the boys.

"I'm on my way," Bobby answered before he hung up the phone.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

John had sat on the edge of Dean's bed in sort of a dismay. He felt so out of place, so worried, so scared all at the same time. He'd never felt this way before. All of this was sort of foreign to him. He honestly couldn't bring himself to think of anything or anyone but Sammy right now, but he wished he could. All this thinking wasn't helping him in the least.

He lifted his knee and tried to slide it on the bed. Accidentally , he bumped it into Dean's side. In response he made a moaning sound. John's head whipped to his right to see Dean looking up at him absently. He was confused, that was apparent.

John's eyes lit up and he did all he could to pull on a smile for his oldest son. The thought of telling him about Sam bounced around in his head. He should tell him, he deserved to know, he'd _want _to know. But he didn't need to hear it right now. The last thing Dean needed was all that worry on his mind. He hadn't even been awake for more than ten minutes. John figured it could wait.

"Hey, Dean," John called softly as he rested his hand on his son's shoulder.

Dean stared absently at him for a moment or two only blinking now and again. He saw Dean cut his eye part John. He was looking for Sam.

"You're in the hospital, son."

John searched Dean's eyes for recognition. He was patient.

"How do you feel?"

Dean looked down at his hands and John felt his eyebrows scrunch up a little and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Dean couldn't talk for some reason. John shifted on the side of the bed trying to get a more head-on look at his son.

"Dean-"

"Wh'r's Sam?"he asked; his voice was soft and he sounded winded a little.

John should've known that would've been the first words he said when he woke up. He scratched his nose.

"Sammy's...uh, well..the doctors are with Sam right now."

Dean didn't like his dad's tone of voice. The way he could tell he was searching for something to say. It made Dean nervous and the heart monitor showed it. John didn't comment on it, but he noticed the increase in rhythm of Dean's heart beat. See? This is why he didn't tell Dean the truth, or, the full truth, that is. He didn't want this to happen. He didn't need Dean all worked up right now, it'll be too much pressure and anxiety for the both of them.

"'S he 'kay?" Dean looked directly in his father's eyes, mentally telling him he demanded the truth.

For a second, John had to look away.

"They're...they're working on him, Dean. Try not to worry, okay? He'll be fine."

John tried to keep his voice steady, tried to come up with comforting words, but it was hard with his mind yelling at him what was actually happening.

_Sam could be dead right now_, his mind screamed. _You saw it. You saw him flatline. You saw whatever color he had left drain from him. You saw how panicked the nurses and doctors looked. And now you're lying to Dean? You don't think he deserves to know what's really going on? He's taken care of Sam more than you ever could have..._

"Why don't you get some rest? C'mon, no need to waste all your energy."

Dean shook is head no the best he could with all the wires attached to him.

"Wanna wait f'Sammy," he says. His voice is slow and rough. And even though his mouth said he was staying up, is eyes were begging for sleep. John moved Dean over a little so there was enough room for him too on the bed. He wrapped his arm about Dean's shoulders and let his head rest on him. He could feel Dean looking up at him.

He searched to find his voice.

"'M s'rry," Dean mumbles, his eyes finally beginning to close.

John looks down at him, confused slightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he tells him.

But Dean just keeps going. "It's m'fault Sammy's h'rt. I should'a protected'em."

Again, John shakes his head.

"No one's blaming you, Dean. Stop blaming yourself-"

"'M sorry," Dean repeats just as his eyes fall shut.

John listens to the beeping from his heart monitor as they slow and even out to a steady pace that lets John know that he's asleep.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Kris panicked.

She yelled.

She screamed.

She broke lamps, punched walls, and tossed glass dishes.

"I have to go. I need to go." she kept telling herself, but she never left the house.

She remembered the way John yelled, the worry he had in his eyes as he help his sons and carried them out of the house.

Kris slumped to the ground, tears sliding down her cheeks.

But she didn't know why she was crying.

Honestly, she felt good.

But something was overwhelming. Something was different and it was getting to her.

Hours passed, and she didn't even notice.

Her head was spinning.

She knew she was in trouble.

She knew she should go...somewhere, anywhere.

"I have to go. I need to go."

Clothes. If she was leaving, she needed clothes.

Quickly, she ran into her room and literally flung whatever she could into the biggest bag she had. Her hair flew all over the place, her face hot and red.

"I have to go. I need to go," she said again just as she jogged out of her bedroom and pulled open the front door.

But she stopped short, gasping a little.

A gun, silver, pretty, and cocked stared her right in the face.

"Going somewhere?" said the man holding it.

* * *

><p>Again, I apologize for the wait for this chapter, but I hoped you still enjoyed it. Review?<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note_: Hello, hey, hi. Yes, it's been a while and I'm sorry for that honestly. My summer's actually been busy. Between friends, family, practice, and my school work for the upcoming year, and the trips in between I haven't had time to sit down and write a chapter. Also, I've been in contact with another writer here on FanFiction by the name of Devil917 who says that she's taking a break from writing, really likes my work, and would like me to sort of…take on one of her stories. I'm not sure if you're familiar with her work but she has really good plots that she feels she isn't going to be able to finish, but she knows that she has people wanting her to finish the ideas, so she's come to me.

She has two unfinished stories, actually, but if I do decide to take them on, I'll only be going one of the two. One is titled, 'Jigsaw', and it's basically where Sam is kidnapped by a person unknown and he gives John and Dean clues as to where to find him. To the man, all of this is a game. It's really interesting.

Her other unfinished story, however, is titled, "Lab Rat", this story is about Sam and Dean getting taken by scientists- but I guess you could call them 'mad scientist' who have found out about Sam's abilities and want to experiment on him to figure out how they can 'control his kind'.

Honestly, both of these look interesting. I've been told that she planned on making both of these fics dark, so I've got my work cut out for me. Of course, I'll change some things, there'll be a different title, but I'm just basically taking the plot for her. This story, 'Ignorance Is Bliss' is almost finished, actually. So as soon as I finish the last chapter, I'll get to work on one of those plots above.

Again, I'm not exactly sure which one I'm going to do, so if one of those looks more interesting than the other, please let me know. Feedback and ideas is always helpful.

Anyway, sorry for the horrendously long Author's Note, but I just wanted to let you guys know what's going on and that I'm still writing and all of that. But without anymore prolonging, here's Chapter 13.

* * *

><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 13<strong>

Kris stumbled back, dropping her bag on the ground instinctively. Her breath hitched in her throat as he stared down the barrel of the handgun. She took a few steps back, trying to make distance between her and the gun, but it was pretty much pointless. Either way, he had her at point-blank range.

"I don't even know how to describe a bitch like you," he said. His eyes were dark, angered. She noted the way he tilted his head to the side just a little to get a better, more head-on, look at her face.

She shook her head and open her mouth; and even though her mouth moved no words came out. She put her hands up and had them cover her mouth.

"It kills me to know there's more people in the world like you."

"I… I'm sorry. I-"

The gun cocked.

She squealed.

The man smirked.

"Sorry? You're sorry that you put two kids in the hospital? You're sorry that you almost killed both of them? You're sorry you hit them? You're sorry?"

Kris nodded rapidly and bit her bottom lip. Nervously, she pushed her stringy hair behind her ears. Her hands were shaking.

"Yes. Yes. I'm sorry. I'm…I'm sick! I need help! I didn't mean to hurt them, I swear! I'm sorry," Kris tried to plead, but it didn't work. The man's facial expression didn't even change. The look in his eye was something she'd always remember. She knew that there was no way to get out of this one.

He took a few steps so he was inside and he slammed the door shut. When the heavy wood connected with the doorframe she flinched.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

The man shook his head.

"You're gonna need a lot more than God, sweetheart."

Kris shook her head, her hair slipping from behind her ears and flying all over the place. By now she was crying, her eyes were red and her tears streamed down her face.

"Please don't kill me," she whispered.

The man only laughed.

"It's too late for me to try and reconsider," he states coldly.

He puts the gun inches from her forehead and without wasting a moment, he pulls the trigger. The aftermath stained the carpet red

_-Ignorance Is Bliss-_

When the doctor came back he found John in Dean's bed with one arm wrapped around him. Dean was still asleep but he had a noticeably peaceful look on his face now that his father was closer and by his side. John, on the other hand, it was clear that he was worried sick. His face and his eyes were red. The look was unusual on John. He was usually the type of guy that kept everything inside. But instead, here he was: face slack, eyes red from crying, face a pinkish color, hands clammy and shaking as he waited to hear the condition of his youngest son.

The doctor knocked on the door twice to get John's attention.

The first thing John noticed was the blood on his jacket and some on his hands.

He put his hands up, "Please don't let that scare you," the doctor says referring to the blood that was on him. John stood up, careful when he unwrapped himself from around Dean, and stood eye to eye with the other man.

"I'm not going to carry out some explanation," he says, "Sam's alive, he's breathing, and he's stable."

John felt like he'd lose his balance. He bowed his head when he felt the tears brimming again. Quickly, he wiped them away. "Thank God..."

John looked up at the doctor again, half smiling.

"Thank you," he says most sincerely.

"Would you like to see him?" the doctor asked.

Almost immediately, John looked back at Dean. Again, he was conflicted. The doctor said, "Dean will be fine. I'll even have a nurse come sit with him if it'll make you feel better. "

John nodded. "That'd be great."

_-Ignorance is Bliss-_

The Intensive Care Unit was quiet.

John hovered over Sam who was hooked up to more machines than he was before. Honestly, it was killing John to see them like this.

Sam was pale, and the darkness of his hair against his forehead only made it more apparent. John brushed the hair away and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

The beeping of the machines was his only answer.

John smiled a little.

"I'm proud of you, buddy. You're so strong. You always have been, but I'm ever been more thankful for it than I am right now," he let out a small, throaty laugh. "I told them you were a fighter; that you weren't going out that easily...thanks for proving me right, son."

Again, the beeping of the machines filled the silence.

"Dean woke up about an hour ago for a little while," John continues as he tangles his fingers in the ends of Sam's hair. "Don't you think it's your turn now? Don't you think you've slept enough, Sammy?"

John stared down at Sam's closed eyes, then down at his hand, then studied his face as he looked for some kind of reaction out of him. There was none, as John pretty much expected. But a man can hope, can't he?

"You've got me and Dean worried sick about you. But what else is new, right? You know we love you more than anything. Without you... I don't know, we'd go crazy."

He looked back at the door, then at Sam.

"I think I better go back with Dean and wait for Bobby," John halted his hand in Sam's hair, just above his forehead. He gave Sam a soft look, a hopeful look. "Keep fighting, Sammy."

_-Ignorance Is Bliss-_

By the time John got back to Dean's room the nurse was gone and Bobby had taken her place.

"I thought you'd never get here," John said under his breath.

Bobby looked up at him, then at where Sam's bed used to be.

"Where's Sam?" he asked. John could feel Bobby's nervousness.

John put his head down. "His, uh...his heart had stopped beating and-"

"Oh my God," Bobby cut in. He took a few steps back.

"He's stable now, Bobby. But... damn, this kid, he can't catch a break." John gestures to Dean. "Both of them. Can't we just go a week without come kind of crisis?"

Bobby didn't answer. John didn't expect him to.

"Dean has woken up," the father announced as he walked back over to his oldest son.

"That's great."

"Yeah. He's worried about Sam though. I just, I don't want to tell him, it'd only make him worry more. I don't know."

Bobby scratched his nose. "You're gonna have to tell him eventually."

John shrugged. "I know. I will. I guess I don't really have a choice."

The quiet swept over the room before John spoke up again.

"What the hell took you so long? Your motel is up the street."

Bobby leaned in closer to John, "I had business to take care of."

John looked at him suspiciously. "What kind of business?"

The older hunter tipped his hat a little.

"Lets just say Kris won't be a problem for anyone anymore."

* * *

><p>Please review, and also let me know what you think about the story I might be taking on!<br>Thank you!

Only a chapter or two left!


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: _Yes, yes this is the final chapter. *cue crying background track* but have no fear kids! As some of you may know I'm actually doing my own rendition of Devil917's 'Jigsaw', (all was explained in the author's note of last chapter - go back if you're confused.), and I have already put up the first chapter. So go ahead and check it out. Let me know what you think. I'll get working on chapter two as quickly as I can. But for now, just say your last goodbye's to Ignorance Is Bliss. It was a good ride, wasn't it?

* * *

><p><strong>Ignorance Is Bliss, Chapter 14<strong>

Sam's surgery was today. The clock had just flipped to 6:24 in the morning. John and Bobby had been awake for god knows how long. Honestly, they don't even remember when they'd gone to sleep. Between worry about Sam and comforting Dean there was just no time for selfishness such as resting themselves. They'd gave every waking moment to those two since they were born and that sure as hell wasn't going to stop now.

The doctor had walked through the door just as his dull blue plastic gloves smacked around his wrists securely. Briefly, he nodded toward Bobby, glanced at Dean, then fixed his attention on John. "Sam's right outside," he announced. With his hand he absently motioned toward the door. "He did good through the night. We're confident he'll do good through the surgery, too."

There was a lump in John's throat that hadn't gone away since he'd gotten the call from Dean. Ever since then it just seemed to keep doubling and doubling in side. He was surprised it hadn't choked him yet. Carefully John studied the doctor's facial expression and overall attitude. He looked ready, confident. Somehow, his easy-going and calm speech calmed John's nerves a little. This man was he person who literally was going to have his son's life in his hands in a matter of minutes. John didn't trust strangers - hell, he didn't honestly trust _anyone_. But he needed to but his faith in his man right now. He needed to trust that he was a professional and could make sure Sam was alright. He had to.

"You can talk to him if you'd like," John was told. "Not too long though. We're on a schedule."

Momentarily, John glanced back at Bobby then he walked out the door to Sam. He rounded the corner looking both ways before spotting Sam and a team of nurses to the right of him. He jogged toward them. His lips pressed into a tight, straight line seeing as Sam hadn't regained much color overnight.

"Hey, kid,"John stated softly as he rested his heavy hand on Sam's shoulder. The father glared at the men and women in their colorful scrubs in a manor that told them he needed a minute alone with his child. They took the hint and scattered nonchalantly. "The doctors are gonna take you for a while, alright. Don't worry. It'll be fine," John continued. He'd let his fingers find the ends of Sam's hair, petting it softly, soothingly. He needed Sam to know he was here on any level he could. He didn't want Sam to feel alone.

"Me, Bobby and Dean will be right here waiting for you when you come back." John choked a little as he forced himself to continue. "Make sure you come back, okay, Sammy? You hear me?" He sniffed and blinked the lingering liquid in his eyes away. Mentally he shook himself. He had to stay strong. _Keep it together John _, he said to himself in a scolding tone.

The doctor came out of the room and glared at John. They needed to go, and although they weren't going to verbally rush John, he could tell the needed to get going. But he protest in anyway. The sooner Sam goes, the sooner it's over, the sooner he can begin to get better. So instead of going off on tangents about how much he and everyone else was pulling for him, John simply leaned down pressing his forehead to Sam's.

"We'll all here for you 's asking for you, too. So keep fighting, son." He stood up but let his hand linger on the side of Sam's face for a second longer. "Everything's gonna be okay," John says to him just as he walks back to the room where his eldest son was waiting.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

"Sam's gonna be okay, right?"

Dean's deep green eyes stared at John. He breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly.

John nodded. "You know he will, Dean. He's gonna be fine."

There was silence in the room.

"Dean..."John begin. His thoughts went back to Kris and all they'd been through. He needed to know exactly what happened. "What happened with Kris while I was gone?"

The kid was quiet and his eyes fell to the bed sheets.

"Dean?"

He shrugged. "He'd hit Sammy."

John looked over at Bobby, then back at his son. "Why?" he questioned. "What he do?"

"_Nothing_," Dean blurted out a little more defensively than needed. "Sam didn't do anything wrong. He just wasn't hungry, Dad. That's it."

"Hungry?"

Dean nodded slightly. "Yeah, it started because Sam wasn't hungry. She had made him, like, noodles or something, but he didn't want to eat it. So she tried to force him to eat and he just kept telling her no over and over...that's when I had came in from getting the mail. I had...I ran to Sam and got him away as quick as I could and I brought him into our room and locked the door. I didn't know what else to do, I- I just wanted to get him away from her."

John patted his shoulder approvingly. "You did all you could, Dean. It's fine. I was just...curious. It's okay."

The room fell silent but their minds all screamed the same thing: Sam.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

The nurse had come back in two hours later to check on Dean. John was proud to notice that Dean seemed to only get better. His color had come back, he hadn't complained of a headache or dizziness. He was calm, talking frequently, and able to focus. Things for Dean were looking fine. She had told John that with the doctor's say-so, he could be released in a day or so with the proper medication to make sure his improvements keep on improving.

John had smiled down at Dean just slightly as she informed them.

The breathing tubes that were placed in Dean's nose when he'd first arrived were taken out the night he had first woke up, too. He was really doing fine. John felt a weight being lifted off his shoulder. It was clear: Dean was going to be just as good as new in a week or so. He always came out strong.

"Your son, Sam, he should be out of surgery in about an hour or so," she had said just as she left the room and close the door.

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

Sam had went in for his surgery at roughly 6:30 in the morning.

He didn't come out till 9:49 am.

In that time John, Bobby, and Dean did all the could not to tear their hair out with worry. In their minds they kept telling themselves that everything was alright. They kept saying to themselves that Sam was fine. They kept repeating over and over that Sam was a strong kid, that Sam was gonna be fine, that they were overreacting. But the wait and the silence only made their thoughts get louder and louder.

"He'll be fine," Dean had said aloud, but it was strictly meant to be said in his head. When the words left his lips his felt his eyes bulge a little and he flicked them over to his father and Bobby who already had their gaze set on him. Dean looked away. A moment later he felt an arm around him gently. He could hear his father' heartbeat.

"You're right, Dean. Sammy's gonna be just fine."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

"He did great."

Those were the first words the doctor said as he reentered Dean's room. The relief on all their faces was apparent and something he was glad to see. John stood, walked to him, and shook his hand firmly.

"Thank you."

The doctor gave a nod then continued, "He's being moved back to a room of his own for now. I'll be back in about ten minutes after he's all set up. You can see him then," the doctor peered over John's shoulder to Dean. "You, too, son. You can go see your brother. There's no need for all those machines anymore. My nurses told me you were looking and feeling a thousand times better."

Dean nodded. "I am."

Again, the doctor nodded at him. Then he turned his attention back to John.

"What we did was this: we gave him another stomach pump to make sure his body was clear of the drugs he was given. We then went in and put a liquid down the lining of his throat. It tastes sort of like cough syrup. I'll have to give you a prescription for it. That should give the sores time to heal without restricting his drinking or eating. The surgery, however was for the beginning of internal bleeding due to the Tramadol eating away at his insides. We got it to stop quickly. Actually, there should't be too much of a scar. There were just about three incisions right here, here, and here." The doctor demonstrated on his own abdomen where the marks were. "Other than that, I'm glad to say Sam did fine. Like I said, he's just resting and you can see him shortly."

John smiles a thick smile.

"Thank you," he says again.

The doctor shakes his hand once more. "No problem. You're got two great sons here, y'know."

"I know. They're..wonderful."

The doctor smiles a quick smile at John before heading out the door. "I'll be back as soon as Sam's ready for visitors."

_-Ignorance-Is-Bliss-_

While they were waiting for the doctor to some back, two nurses came to unhook all the wires from Dean. Just as they were finishing up and Dean was pulling his shirt over his head from the bag of clothes John kept his his car, the doctor came back.

"Sam's ready for you guys," he says smiling slightly.

Once Dean was ready they all walked down to Sam's room, which was on a floor below. They were escorted to his room and the doctor gestured for them to head it.

As soon as they opened the door they saw Sam lying down, but he was awake. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling like he was trying to count the tiles (which wouldn't surprise any of them if he actually were). All three smiled big.

"Sammy?"

He looked over at them sharply. For a second, he looked confused, then he said, "Dean!"

They moved over toward him.

Sam looked up at John. He blinked once. Twice. Thre-

"Dad?"

John smirked. "Hey kiddo."

"You came for us?"

For a second, John felt bad. Did Sam honestly think he wouldn't come? Is that the impression that both of his sons were under?

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around his youngest son and _damn _was it good to feel him hugging back. To feel his fingers gripping he back of his shirt. To know that when they finally pulled back, he could look into Sam's eyes. To know he was awake and able to get better from here. It felt amazing.

"Of course I came for you, Sammy. I'm sorry."

John sat on the side of his bed and Dean went on the other side.

"How're you feeling, son?"

Sam nodded softly. His voice was low and scratchy. He kept clearing his throat. "I'm...okay. My throat hurts. And my stomach."

"I know, the doctors are working on fixing you, though. You're gonna be just fine. Stop messing with your throat," John ends, the look in his eye more concerned then upset. Sam let his hand drop into his lap.

"'M sorry."

John sighed. "No, Sam, it's fine. I just don't want you to hurt yourself. You just got out of surgery. We're just worried."

Sam didn't say anything. He pulled at the lining of the sheets on his bed that covered his legs. He looked to Dean.

"You 'kay?"

Dean nodded at him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Don't worry about me, Sammy. I'm fine. Just worry about yourself."

To that, Sam's response was, "You sure you're okay?"

They all laughed.

"Yes, Sam. I'm okay," Dean answers more directly. "I promise."

Satisfied enough, Sam turns back to John. For a second he almost fought against saying it, but he did anyway. "I missed you, Dad."

John couldn't tell you why, but his words caught him off guard and for a second he was completely silent.

Then he answered with, "I missed you, too, Sammy. " He looked over at Dean. "Both of you. I missed both of you. You gave me and Bobby one helluva scare there you know."

Both brother share a glance. "Sorry," Sam says again, this time with a little smile behind it.

John looked at Sam, then at Dean, then back at Bobby and he smiled.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked.

John just smiled more and shrugged. "I just got a good feeling. That's all. We're gonna be okay," he says.

And as John looked down at his sons, it was painfully clear why it's always been just him and his boys.

Clearly, they didn't need anyone else.

* * *

><p>Okay, it's overrrrrrrr. So please take this final change to review and <strong>don't <strong>forget to check out my new story 'When The Pieces Don't Fit', chapter one is already up and I'm working on the second.

Thank you again, you've all been amazing.

I'm thankful for you all.

Have a great day.


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